The Trouble with Witches

by Shirley Damsgaard

  A hole big enough for someone to wiggle through. Someone about my size. I took a step forward.

  Don’t do it, said my common sense.

  Hey, it’s not like I haven’t trespassed before, I argued back.

  Right—and got shot in the process, the little voice pointed out.

  Oh, yeah. Maybe I should listen this time.

  I turned away from the fence and began to retrace my steps, when a chattering squirrel drew my attention.

  He sat high in the tree, watching me and prattling, as if scolding me for contemplating trespassing.

  “Enough already,” I said aloud, stopping under the tree. “I’m leaving.”

  The squirrel paused as if he were out of breath from his prattling.

  And when he did, I heard it—a whimper. Or thought I’d heard a whimper. I cocked my head, straining to hear a sound. Nothing. Looking back up at the tree, I saw the squirrel had disappeared, and on the same bough, a hawk now sat.

  Motionless, the hawk stared down at me. A second later, with unbelievable grace, he launched himself airborne. He circled twice above my head and then flew in the direction of the fence. The hawk circled again. This time directly over the hole in the fence.

  I couldn’t shake the impression he wanted me to follow—through the fence. Without a second thought, I did—I squirmed right through the break. So much for common sense.

  I walked deeper into the woods, occasionally glancing up at the hawk flying in the sky above me. The trees grew thicker together in this section of the forest, blocking more and more of the sun the farther I walked. The air seemed to thicken, too, and the birch trees no longer rattled. Again I glanced up, looking for the hawk, but he’d vanished.

  Thanks a lot. You lead me here, and then you disappear, I thought while my eyes scanned the branches above me for a sign of the hawk.

  Head tilted back, I walked along, still searching the branches for the bird. A shock, as if I’d touched an electric fence, stopped me. Jerking around, I looked for what I’d touched, but nothing was in sight. Only an old, abandoned cabin, sitting in a clearing about fifty feet from where I stood.

  I remembered Rick’s map of the Butler estate. Had he drawn a cabin this far away from the main house? I didn’t think so. And all the cabins he’d drawn were inhabited. Eyeing the cabin, I didn’t think anyone could be living in it. Sections of rafters peeked out from holes in the roof. The main door hung crookedly from rusted hinges, and on either side of it, windows, their panes broken, stared out toward the clearing. Two steps, with the treads half gone, led to a sagging front porch. And along the porch ran a wooden railing with several posts missing. It reminded me of a smiling mouth with several teeth missing.

  Ghost lights. Abandoned cabin. Was this where Fred Albert, Violet’s brother, spent his last days?

  I took another step forward, only to be shocked again. But by what?

  Perplexed, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, while I studied the ground at my feet. Could there be some kind of invisible fencing buried in the ground? Like the ones people used to keep their dogs in their yards? No, an invisible fence only worked with a collar that acted like a receiver. But maybe my psychic talent acted the same way.

  Kneeling, I picked up a stick and dug at the ground, but the hard-packed dirt snapped the stick in two. When the stick broke, the smell of cedar filled the air. I sat back on my heels and examined the broken end. I took a deep breath.

  Yup, definitely cedar.

  My eyes skimmed the clearing, but I didn’t see any cedar trees. Examining the ground around me, I saw another stick to my right, then another to my left. The sticks seemed to be in a pattern. Standing, I followed the trail of cedar sticks. They ringed the cabin. And with the sticks, in regular intervals, lay bundles of leaves, tied in the middle with rough string.

  I didn’t need to smell the bundles. I recognized the leaves by their silver-gray color. Sage. One of Abby’s favorite herbs.

  No way. This couldn’t be a piece of Abby’s work. She hadn’t been at the lake long enough to do something like this. But if not Abby, then who? And why?

  I stood and took a calming breath. Opening my mind, I sent a tentative finger of energy toward the circle of cedar. I felt a shock, but not as strong. I tried again, only instead of a finger of energy, I pushed with both hands against what felt like an invisible wall.

  The wall seemed to bend inward against my hands while the scent of cedar grew stronger.

  I shoved harder this time, and felt the wall crack.

  Warmth seeped out and enfolded me with soft, gentle hands. The cedar smell that had been so strong only a moment ago was replaced with the aroma of apples and cinnamon, reminding me of childhood days spent in Abby’s kitchen. I relaxed, and as I did, I thought I heard a muted voice in my ear.

  “Let me take care of you. Everything you desire will be yours,” said the sibilant tones.

  Take care of me? I tugged against the invisible hands that held me, but their grip strengthened. I don’t want to be taken care of. And everything I desire might not be good for me. I tugged harder. Without need, want, and struggle, you don’t learn, you don’t grow. In my mind, I saw myself prying grasping fingers from my wrists.

  As I did, the air around me changed with a sudden surge of cold. The cloying scent of something rotting replaced the comforting smell of apples and cinnamon. And the soft, warm hands? The flesh melted away until nothing was left but bone. Bone that poked and pinched as if trying to find a point of entry into my body, into my soul.

  As I struggled, I looked at the cabin, with its broken windows and crooked door, and it appeared to take on a malevolent look. Black dots feathered the edges of my consciousness while I stared at the leering facade. My last thought before the dots merged into total darkness came out of my mouth in a rough whisper.

  “Abby.”

  Twelve

  Cold—I’m so cold.

  A tiny bit of heat sparked somewhere inside of me as a warm cloth wiped my face. With it, the darkness in my mind faded. Opening my eye, I saw Abby’s face, filled with concern, hovering over me. A gasp of relief escaped me—I was back in the cabin, in my bedroom. I’d survived whatever had happened in the woods.

  After struggling to sit up, I threw my arms around Abby and hugged her close, and the smell of the baby powder she always wore chased away the rotten smell that still lingered in my senses. I squeezed my eyes shut to hold back the sudden tears that filled them.

  Abby’s arms tightened around me and she murmured soft words in my ear while my body trembled with a cold deep inside me.

  What had I stumbled onto in those woods?

  Opening my eyes, I noticed Walks Quietly standing silently at my bedroom door. Our eyes met for only a moment, and then, without a word, he turned and left.

  Releasing Abby, I scooted back toward the headboard, while she reached around behind me and plumped the pillows. When I settled back against them, a cool hand stroked my face while the other hand tucked the blankets tightly around me.

  “Better?” Abby asked, her face still pinched with worry.

  Wordlessly, I nodded.

  “Good. Here, drink this,” she said, handing me a cup from the nightstand.

  While I held the warm cup, its heat soaked into my very soul, chasing the last of the cold away, and its fragrant aroma cleared my mind. I took a cautious sip, but didn’t recognize the taste.

  “What the hell happened?” I asked, passing a hand over my eyes.

  “I don’t know,” Abby said. “I’d just finished smudging the cabin when Walks Quietly appeared at the door, with you in his arms—unconscious. He went straight to your room and put you on the bed. Then he gave me a packet of herbs from his pocket and told me to make tea with it—”

  “You don’t know what this is?” I interrupted, eyeing the cup with suspicion.

  “No,” Abby replied calmly.

  I felt a look of horror on my face. “What if he’s trying to poison me?” I shoved th
e cup toward her. “I get the distinct impression he doesn’t like us.”

  “Nonsense, he wouldn’t poison you,” Abby said, refusing to take the cup. “If he’d wanted to get rid of you, he wouldn’t have hauled you clear across the lake. He would have left you where he found you. He was trying to help you. When I came back in with the tea, he was muttering words in a native tongue and rubbing something on your forehead.”

  My hand flew to my brow. Feeling an oily smudge, I rubbed at the spot, transferring some of the substance to my fingers. I held them under my nose and inhaled. “What is this?” I asked, extending my hand.

  Abby sniffed at the stuff on my fingers and shook her head. “I don’t know.” Taking my hand in hers, she glanced out the window, then back at me. “I need to know what happened.”

  With a sigh, I relaxed against the pillows and quickly related my story.

  “…and another thing,” I continued, “the cabin wasn’t on Rick’s map.”

  “Maybe he didn’t know it was there.”

  “Well, somebody did. And they laid some kind of protective spell around it, using the cedar and sage. I messed with it when I tried to feel what lurked on the other side.” I shuddered at the memory. “Abby, whatever’s in there isn’t just bad, it’s the total absence of good—it’s absolute evil.”

  “Hmm, I see,” she said thoughtfully. “I imagine Walks Quietly had something to do with the spell, with the magick.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “No. He didn’t offer any explanation. You were so pale and cold, I didn’t take the time to ask questions. I simply did what he told me.” Abby looked over her shoulder. “I’d hoped to talk to him after we took care of you, but I see he’s gone.”

  “Yup, gone like a puff of smoke.” Now hot, I wiggled out from underneath the covers. “Do you think the cabin had anything to do with Brandi’s disappearance?”

  “Maybe. Since it’s obvious Walks Quietly doesn’t want to tell us about the cabin, I think we should take another look at it.”

  I jumped out of the bed, sloshing the tea I still had in my hand. “Are you crazy? I told you whatever’s there is evil.” I shook my head until I almost felt my brain rattle. “No way am I going back there. And absolutely, positively, I’m not letting you go!”

  Abby arched an eyebrow as if to say, Oh yeah?

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and started pacing the small room. “Nope, not going to happen, we’re not going to do it—”

  Abby’s voiced stopped my pacing. “Ophelia, what if Brandi is in that cabin?” she asked softly. “Don’t her parents have the right to know what happened to her?”

  An image of a pile of bleached bones in an empty field flashed through my mind. I wasn’t able to bring closure to the missing man’s family in Iowa, but maybe…

  Taking my hands from my pockets, I looked down at Abby, sitting on the bed, her hands calmly folded in her lap. “It’s dangerous.”

  She nodded wisely. “I know, and it would be foolish to go rushing back to the cabin. But there are ways, things we can do to protect ourselves.”

  “Yeah? Like what?” I asked skeptically.

  Abby cocked her head. “Well, we can—”

  A knock at the cabin door interrupted her.

  “That may be Walks Quietly,” she said, rising from the bed and hurrying from the room.

  I went to the window overlooking the lake and stared across the water. What crept around in those woods? In the cabin? Was it the ghost of Violet Butler’s crazy brother, Fred Albert? Did I want to get up close and personal with whatever it was again? A shudder shook my shoulders. Not really. And I didn’t want to drag my grandmother into it, either.

  Abby’s excited voice broke into my thoughts.

  “What a surprise! What are you doing in Minnesota?” I heard her exclaim.

  She sounded happy to see whoever it was. Leaving the bedroom, I rounded the corner of the kitchen to take a look at our surprise guest. I stopped dead.

  Darci stood in the middle of the kitchen, hugging Abby. And right behind her, a mound of luggage.

  My face screwed up in a frown, but before I could voice what I thought, Darci took charge of the situation.

  “Hi, Ophelia. Surprise!” she squealed, rushing at me and throwing her arms around me.

  Awkwardly, I hugged her back. “Yeah, what a surprise,” I said, my voice tinged with sarcasm. “How did you manage to finagle this one, Darci?”

  She released me and took a step back. A wounded look crossed her face, but I wasn’t buying it.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice full of innocence.

  I gave her a knowing look. “Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” I grabbed Darci’s arm and tugged her toward the door.

  “But Ophelia…” A whiny tone crept into her voice. “I just got here.”

  “A walk will be good for you after your long trip,” I said, motioning her out the door.

  By now it was late afternoon, and the trees cast long shadows across the road. I saw a flash of red in the leaves above us as a cardinal flitted from branch to branch. Darci walked beside me without speaking, waiting for me to speak first.

  She didn’t have to wait long.

  I got straight to the point. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing here? And who’s running the library?”

  “Nobody—it’s closed. The day after you left, the air conditioner went on the fritz—”

  “Great. How long will it take for them to fix it?” I asked, breaking in.

  “At least a week. The thing’s so old, they had to order the part from Chicago. Since the library’s closed, the library board decided it would be a good time to fumigate the library. The building will have to air out for a couple of days after they spray.”

  “I guess that’s good, then,” I said, and picked up a branch lying across the road. “The bugs were taking over.”

  Darci gave me a big smile. “I saw it as a sign.”

  Stopping, I looked over at her. “The bugs taking over were a sign?” I asked.

  “No, silly. The library closing was a sign. A sign I was supposed to help you out on this latest caper.” Her eyes sparkled as she said it. “I mean, it’s not like I had anything else to do.”

  “Darci,” I groaned, and threw the branch into the woods. “You’ve been reading too many detective novels. This isn’t a ‘caper,’ this is serious. There’s a young woman missing, and we haven’t got a clue why.”

  Walking away from her, I decided now was not the time to tell Darci about my experience at the abandoned cabin. Not if I intended to try and convince her to go back to Iowa. If she learned about what had happened that morning, she’d be on it like flies on…well, it wouldn’t be something she’d leave alone.

  “I can help you. You know I can,” she pleaded while she hurried to catch up with me. “I’ve helped you before—”

  “You’re right, you have helped me,” I said, interrupting. “But I don’t see how you can this time.”

  She stopped and tossed her head indignantly. “Humph, I can help in a lot of ways. I may not be psychic, like you and Abby, but I’m very good at worming information out of people.”

  I stopped, too, and snorted. She had that right. I’d seen her in action. People, especially men, always focused on the way Darci looked. They never suspected that behind the naive, “I’m so helpless” act, she was busy learning all kinds of information about them. Information that would be committed to her incredible memory and called forth at any time she wanted.

  “Well?” she said, crossing her arms.

  I gave a quick nod. “Yes, you’re very good at getting people to tell you things.”

  “Thank you. So I can stay?”

  “No.”

  Darci’s eyes filled with tears. “Why not?”

  Crap, now I’d hurt her feelings.

  I reached over and patted her arm. “Darci, it’s not because you aren’t a very talented woman, and it’s not because I don
’t want your help—”

  “Then why?” she asked before I could continue.

  “Because, like I told you before, the situation could be dangerous,” I said, trying to place as much emphasis on the word “dangerous” as possible. Maybe I could scare her.

  She sniffed again. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can,” I replied, my voice placating. “But we’ve only been here a couple of days and already there have been incidents.”

  “What kind of incidents?” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

  “Ahh, well…” My voice trailed off.

  Dang, now Darci was worming information out of me. I watched her face while I tried to think of a way out of the corner I’d put myself in. How much could I tell her without giving away what had really happened that morning? As I thought about what to say, I saw that her tear-filled eyes weren’t quite as “teary” as they had been. The tears seemed to be drying up.

  Why, the little trickster!

  Placing my hands on my hips, I suddenly smiled. “Okay, knock it off. I’m wise to you—you’re running a con. If you make me feel guilty enough, I’ll agree to let you stay with Abby and me. Right?”

  She lifted one shoulder carelessly. “Hey, it was worth a shot. Almost worked, too, didn’t it?” she asked with a grin, the tears completely gone now.

  My smile broadened. “Yeah, it did.”

  Linking my arm with hers, she pulled me back toward the cabin. “Look at it this way, Ophelia, if I can almost fool you into doing what I want—and you know me—just think what I can accomplish with people who don’t know me.”

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Darce,” I said, matching my stride to hers.

  “Okay, then let me help you and Abby find this girl. I promise I’ll stay out of the hocus-pocus stuff. All I’ll do is ask questions. See what I can find out from the people who live here.”