by Tim Downs
“Hi, boys,” Nick said cheerfully. “At least I’m assuming you’re boys, since the males of most species tend to be larger than the females. I’d hate to think there are ladies out there that are bigger than you guys are, but hey, who knows? Personally, I’m into bugs.”
The dogs showed no reaction to Nick’s pleasant greeting.
He turned to the dog on his right. “Nice doggie,” he said in his friendliest voice—but the words sounded ridiculous even as he said them; it was like calling an African lion “Mr. Boots.” Still, it was a canine, and domesticated canines were known to respond to human affection, so— “Good doggie,” he tried again. But there were no wagging tails in this group. They continued to eye Nick warily, studying his every move.
Nick looked up ahead in the woods. “I suppose Her Royal Wickedness will be along any minute now. Have you boys had your dinner yet? I hope not, ’cause I brought you something I think you’ll really like.” He opened the white box and folded back the lid. He peeled a slice of pizza from the cardboard and dangled it in the air.
“Meat Lover’s,” he said. “I made a wild guess that you boys aren’t vegetarians.”
The dogs made no response.
“Here you go—come and get it.” He turned to the dog on his left and tossed the slice of pizza so that it landed at the dog’s feet; he tossed another slice to the dog behind him. Neither dog moved—not even a sniff.
He set the entire box down in front of the third dog and waved the lid back and forth, fanning the scent toward its face. “C’mon, it’s pizza. You guys can’t be that disciplined. How’d you ever get so big?”
The dog just stared.
Nick stood up and wiped his hands on his khakis. He looked into the woods again; there was still no sign of the witch. “Where’s your master this evening? Did she take the broom out for a spin? She must know I’m here by now—what’s keeping her?”
Fifteen minutes later Nick was still waiting.
“I can’t wait here all night,” he grumbled. He looked at the dogs that surrounded him; he only had two choices—he could go forward or he could go back. “Back” didn’t seem to be an option—he tried that last night and the dog behind him had barred his way. He looked at the two dogs in front of him; they were standing guard at the ten and two o’clock positions, and that left a small gap between them. He wondered if they would allow him to move forward again. It seemed possible; after all, they had let him come this far.
“Nice doggies,” Nick said again. “I’m going to try something here, and I’d appreciate it if you’d just bear with me.”
He took a single step forward and nothing happened. “Good doggies,” he said with a sigh of relief.
Then he took a second step.
Nick caught a glimpse of black fur streaking in from the left; the dog reached him in a single bound, turning its massive head sideways in midair and seizing Nick by the throat as it sent him crashing to the ground.
He lay on his back, stunned, with the dog standing over him, still gripping his throat in its jaws. Nick’s first instinct was to grab at the dog’s head and try to push it away, but he knew that could be a fatal mistake; it would only encourage a tug-of-war with Nick’s throat as the prize—and that was a contest he couldn’t afford to lose. Instead he lay perfectly still, waiting for the dog to make its next move—but the dog did nothing more. It just stood motionless, pinning Nick’s neck to the ground like a giant slobbering clothespin.
Nick heard footsteps approaching, but there was nothing he could do. He just stared up into the starry sky, unable to turn his head even to look.
The witch leaned over and glared down at Nick; she cocked her head to one side and pulled her hair back to get a better look at his face.
“You’re persistent,” she said. “I’ll give you that.”
“It’s one of my better qualities,” Nick said.
“Really. I’d hate to see your bad ones.”
Nick pointed to the dog’s head. “Would you mind?”
“Not just yet.”
He frowned. “I don’t really care for this view.”
“That makes two of us.”
Nick twisted a little; when he did, he felt the dog tighten its grip.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the witch said. “He won’t purposely harm you, but he will not release your throat—under any circumstances— until I tell him to do so. When you twist like that he thinks you’re trying to escape, and he won’t let that happen. The harder you try, the harder he’ll bite—and believe me when I say, he doesn’t know his own strength.”
Nick tried his best to relax—which wasn’t easy given the circumstances.
“Why did you come back here?” she asked.
“Because I need your help.”
“I thought we covered this last night.”
“No, we didn’t—you were rude and told me to go away.”
“I was not rude,” she said. “You were trespassing on my land.”
“I had no choice. You don’t have a phone.”
“I don’t want to be interrupted—especially by you.”
Nick stopped. He sensed the increasing tension, and apparently the dog did too—he felt it gradually tightening its grip again. He decided to slow down and try again. “You have me at a disadvantage,” he said. “Usually when I fight with a woman she doesn’t have three huge animals ready to rip out my throat.”
“Too bad for them,” she replied. “Whenever I fight with a man I find they come in handy.”
“I wonder if we could start over. I would really appreciate the chance to talk to you for a few minutes—just a friendly conversation, witch-to-mortal. After that, if you want me to go, I will.”
“You’re in no position to bargain,” she said.
“Please? It’s a little uncomfortable down here. Plus your dog is drooling down my neck, which is easily one of the grossest things I’ve ever experienced—and believe me, I have a very high threshold for ‘gross.’”
She hesitated.
“I even brought you a pizza—as a peace offering.”
She looked at the open box.
“I got the Witch Supreme,” Nick said. “Eye of newt with extra bat wings.”
She smiled a little—then she saw the three slices of pizza lying in the dirt. “Were you trying to bribe my dogs?”
“I told them it was for you. They threatened me. It got ugly.”
She smiled a little more.
“That smile looks good on you,” Nick said.
“Well, don’t get used to it.” She snapped her fingers, then closed her fist and opened it again; the dog immediately released Nick’s throat and returned to its sitting position.
Nick sat up and wiped his neck with both hands, then looked at them.
“Were you expecting blood?” the witch asked.
“Frankly, yes. Extraordinary—an animal with that much power yet is able to exercise that kind of control. Did you train these animals yourself ?”
“You said you wanted to talk—so talk.”
“Is there someplace we can go and sit down?”
“You’re sitting down now.”
“You’re not making this easy.”
“Is there some reason I should?”
“No,” Nick said, “I suppose there isn’t.” He got up from the ground and dusted himself off. “I’m Dr. Nick Polchak. I’d offer you my hand, but I’m afraid it might get bitten off.”
He waited, but she didn’t respond.
“I didn’t get your name.”
“I didn’t give it.”
“Am I supposed to keep calling you ‘Witch’? I tried that with a woman once and it ended our relationship.”
She paused. “Alena Savard.”
“Alena,” he said. “That’s a perfectly good name.”
“Who said it wasn’t?”
“The way you kept resisting, I thought maybe it was ‘Wanda’ or ‘Glendora’—you know, something really embarrassing f
or a witch.”
She didn’t reply.
“I’m a professor of entomology at NC State down in Raleigh. I’m also a forensic entomologist—that’s why I’m here in Virginia. I’m working for the FBI.”
“Working on what?”
“Are you familiar with the Patriot Center?”
“You mean that unforgivable scar that destroyed a thousand acres of beautiful Virginia hardwoods?”
“That’s the one. During excavation they discovered an unmarked graveyard; by law they have to stop and identify all the remaining graves and relocate them before work can continue.”
“Good—I don’t care if they ever find them.”
“The FBI does.”
“Why?”
“Because a couple of the graves contain two bodies—one in a casket and another one buried on top. Apparently somebody had the bright idea of hiding a body by burying it in an existing graveyard—they figured nobody would bother to look for it there. If there are two bodies then there might be more; if there are more we might be talking about a serial killer here—that’s why the FBI’s involved. We need to find the remaining graves as soon as possible.”
“So what do you want from me?”
“I think you have a cadaver dog here—an exceptionally good one.”
“What makes you think that?”
Nick smiled. “You know, you’re an interesting person. ‘The Witch of Endor,’ they call you—and it’s not just a nasty name that somebody made up—it’s something you actually encourage. So much myth and superstition surround you that it’s hard to separate fact from fiction. A sheriff ’s deputy told me that you actually have the power to raise the dead—but when I asked a few questions I realized what he was really describing: You have the power to find the dead—or should I say, your dog does.” Nick pointed to the three-legged dog seated at her side. “Is that it?”
“Her,” she corrected. “She has a sex, you know.”
“Sorry. When I was down there I should have noticed.”
“Why should I help the FBI?”
“Forget the FBI,” Nick said. “Help me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The FBI hired some woman with a FEMA-certified cadaver dog— King Ding Dong or something. The dog’s got all the right credentials, but it just can’t smell. They’ve been working for two days now, and they still can’t find any graves.”
“Two days?”
“That’s right—and she won’t let me come anywhere near the site because she says my scent is distracting her dog.”
“That’s silly. She’s making excuses.”
“That’s what I told her. Alena, I can’t do my job until we locate those remaining graves, and I can’t find those graves without a cadaver dog— a real one, not just one with a colorful wardrobe. If this cadaver dog of yours is trained anywhere near as well as your other dogs, then you could do this job in no time. Please, help me out here.”
She narrowed her eyes at Nick. “And why should I help you?”
“Because I came all the way up here to ask you—twice; because I brought you a pizza; because I let your dog use my neck as a chew toy; because I risked life and limb and losing my appendix to a voodoo curse—that’s why.”
She didn’t seem impressed.
“Then do it because you train dogs,” he said. “There’s a woman down there who has no idea what she’s doing, and she’s giving people like you a bad name.”
The witch considered this. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just not possible.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want people to see me.”
“No one has to see you. We can do it at night—right now if you’re available.”
“We’d have to be back before daylight.”
“Absolutely. I can drive you there and bring you back.”
“I have a truck,” she said. “I can drive myself.”
“Even better—then you can go back anytime you want. And while you’re there, you can cast a spell on the whole Patriot Center so that no one can ever find a parking space near the front door. What do you say?”
She let out a deep breath. “One hour. I’ll meet you there.”
10
Nick checked his watch. It was already after midnight, and he was beginning to wonder whether Alena was coming or not. Maybe she changed her mind; maybe she never planned to come at all—maybe she just told Nick what he wanted to hear to make him get off her back and go away. Strange woman, he thought, but those dogs of hers—if her cadaver dog was half as well trained as those three black behemoths, Nick just might be in luck.
The excavation site looked surreal in the brilliant moonlight. There were no colors except for blues and violets and the deep black shadows that seeped over the ground like pools of oil. The silent blades and cranes and backhoes of the excavation equipment looked like the bones of dead dinosaurs against the nighttime sky, and the four open graves seemed more ominous than they did in the daylight. What is it about a grave at night? Nick thought. It always makes your skin crawl when you can’t see the bottom.
“Let’s get started.”
Nick jumped. The witch was standing right behind him with her three-legged dog by her side. She was dressed no differently than she was earlier, except that she now wore three bandannas tied around her neck, each with a different color and pattern. Her long black hair still draped like a curtain in front of her face, and she peered out from behind it at Nick. He looked over her shoulder at the parking lot and saw an old red pickup with a white camper shell.
“You sure know how to walk quietly,” Nick said.
“I heard you stomping through my woods a mile away,” she replied. “I didn’t need a dog to find you.”
“That’s what my girlfriend used to say.”
The witch just looked at him.
“It’s a joke,” Nick said. “Don’t witches like jokes?”
“Funny ones.”
Nick glanced down at the dog; the animal looked about as impressed as her master. “What’s your dog’s name?” he asked.
She glared at him. “Why do you want to know that?”
“I just thought—”
“No one knows her name but me, okay?”
Nick shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
“Are we going to do this or not?”
“Sure,” he said, pointing to the area around them. “We think the graves are probably—”
“Just give me a general search perimeter.”
Nick raised one eyebrow. “Search perimeter—is that witch talk?”
“Are you going to make wisecracks all night?”
“Probably—but I’ll be happy to get out of your way and let you get to work.”
“Good. The sooner we get started, the sooner I can go home.”
“Where do you want me?”
“Just stay out of our way.”
“Should I stay downwind or something?”
She looked at him impatiently.
Nick nodded. “Out of the way—got it. This is the search area here; any unexcavated ground is a possible location for a grave.” He moved off to the side and watched.
The witch and the dog moved to the approximate center of the unexcavated area. She walked without any sound at all. No wonder, Nick thought, she’s still barefoot. She pointed at the ground a few yards away from her, and the dog immediately trotted to that spot, turned, and sat down. The witch stood motionless for a moment, then lifted her face to the moon. She slowly raised both arms in front of her with her palms facing up as though she were carrying an invisible load of firewood, then moved her arms up and down a little as if she were testing its weight.
Now she began to walk in circles, making the same lifting motion as she went. It looked silly to Nick—like an outfielder waiting for a pop fly to drop out of the air. After a minute or two she stopped and looked at each arm, turning it back and forth as though she were admiring a new bracelet. She shook them a little
and looked at them again.
She slowly lowered herself into a quarter-squat and then rose again, staring straight ahead; she did it over and over until Nick thought she looked like a horse on a merry-go-round.
Now she extended both arms out to the sides and lowered her head as if she were studying her feet; her hair draped down around her head like tinsel from a Christmas tree. She shook her head a little, making her hair dance about—then she stopped and waited. A few seconds later she repeated the ritual again.
Finally she turned to the dog, snapped her fingers, and wiggled one of them. The dog immediately came and stood facing her, attentively awaiting her next command. She knelt down and took one of the bandannas from her neck; she held it open and showed it to the dog, then tied it around the dog’s neck and straightened it a little. She waited for a moment—then suddenly clapped her hands together and looked at the dog with a wide-eyed grin. It was the first time Nick had seen the woman really smile, and it caught him a little off guard. Still, it looked good on her. Maybe if I wear a bandanna, he thought.
The moment the witch smiled the dog became eager and excited, bobbing its head up and down and shifting its weight back and forth between its three legs like a runner before a race. She reached out with both hands and grabbed the dog by the fur of its neck and pulled it toward her. She rolled onto her back and dragged the dog on top of her, and the two of them lay there playing together in the dirt.
Nick suddenly became aware that his mouth was hanging open and he was squinting hard, though there was barely enough light to see. What the heck is she doing? It looked like some kind of bizarre ritual— worshipping the moon and then cross-dressing with the dog. Nick began to wonder if he’d made a big mistake. Maybe the woman actually took this “witch” thing seriously—maybe she was trying to call up the spirits from their graves or something. Terrific, he thought. I traded a dog without a nose for a woman without a mind.
Now the witch got up from the ground and straightened herself. Her demeanor had changed; there was no longer a smile on her face. She snapped her fingers and pointed down and the dog immediately returned to its place by her side. She pivoted and started off briskly as though someone had called to her from across the field, and the dog followed close beside. At the southeast corner of the unexcavated area she stopped and turned, facing the open field. She waited until the dog took a sitting position, then snapped her fingers and dropped her arm to her side. The dog seemed to tense, anticipating something—then the witch made a motion like someone tossing a horseshoe and the dog took off like a shot.
