THE HEALING HEART

by Zelda Clemens

  “Now,” she sighed, “where shall we start?”

  Suddenly the door burst open and for a moment I thought that it was Donovan. But it was a woman’s voice crying,

  “Ginny! Ginny I found her! I found her!”

  “Tabitha,” Ginny cried. “What are you doing out of your chamber?”

  “Look! Look!”

  Tabitha was petite beauty of a blonde. She wore a floor length white silk night-gown that clung to her shapely form. Her eyes were a deep blue and her face so delicate almost elfin, and yet it looked as though her creamy skin was crisscrossed with faint dark lines as if her skin were cracking. She held a crystal ball in her slender trembling fingers. Floating inside was the face of a wide-eyed, innocent, young, red-headed girl. She looked half frightened.

  “Tabitha are you certain?”

  “Absolutely. This is the one.”

  “Can you draw her to us?”

  “I can barely hold her,” Tabitha said. “My strength . . .”

  I stared at the ball and memorized the face.

  “Darling, I’m losing her,” Tabatha said.

  Then she groaned and slumped, nearly dropping the ball. Ginny caught her and carried her to a chair.

  “I saw her, Ginny,” I said. “I saw that girl and I can find her for you if you let me go.”

  “I let you go,” she said, “and you go to the police.”

  “Darling,” Tabatha said, “who is she?”

  “Just some snoopy reporter.”

  “She’s been with the wolf. She’s made love with him.”

  “You’re wrong,” I said.

  “Tabatha is never wrong,” Ginny said.

  “Darling,” Tabatha said, “was that her screaming?”

  “Yes, love.”

  Tabatha smiled. She took a deep breath and walked over to me. I cringed in my bonds. She placed her hands on my temples and sighed.

  “Oh darling, she’s a good one,” she said. “Oh yes. I can feed from her, she is such a good one.”

  “Then feed you will, my love.”

  And so my torment began and all I will say is that she was a sadistic bitch and Tabatha somehow drew strength from my torture. It was as though I would scream and she would inhale my pain. Ginny was slow and thorough. She did no damage and she kept grilling me about Donovan. I knew that as long as her lover was relishing in my agony there would be no let up, so I told her nothing. I just screamed and screamed.

  Then, in the middle of a particularly vicious lash of a whip, Tabatha, herself, wailed and leapt back in fear.

  “He’s here!” she cried. “The wolf is here!”

  The whipping stopped. I heard crashing sounds from above and my heart dared to hope. Then Donovan burst through the door all in a rage as his hideous wolf form. Tabatha shrieked and Ginny lashed at him with the whip. He grabbed the thong and yanked it out of her grip. Then he slashed at my bonds with his claws and I was free.

  I leapt to my feet and ran out of the way. Ginny flung something like a fireball at Donovan and he batted it away. The ball rolled and smoldered against the wall. Donovan leapt at her but she held out her hand and he slammed to the floor. From her fingertips threads of lightening flashed and wrapped him like an electric blue net. He was writhing and roaring. I ran and grabbed Tabatha, digging my nails at her throat. She felt like she was burning with fever.

  “Enough!” I cried. “I’ll rip her throat out!”

  Ginny’s eyes flashed to me. She glared a moment, then shrieked in a strange language and clapped her hands above her head. The room filled with white and then went black. My arms were empty. I collapsed in the burning room.

  *****

  I was in a haze of pain and smoke. I could barely breathe. Donovan’s iron-like arms picked me up and carried me out and away. He was a man again. I remember the cool night air as he ran through the woods. He gently laid me in the back seat of my car. There was still a clip biting my nipple.

  “This is gonna hurt like hell,” he said as he gently eased it off.

  I shrieked. The blood rushing back into the crushed skin woke the numbed nerve endings and it was excruciating.

  He drove with all the windows open. I could finally breathe as he carried me to my hot-tub. The whirling water eased away my harms.

  He dried me and lay me on my bed. He eased my welts with a cooling balm. I remember caressing him tightly and sobbing. He wrapped me all in his arms and I fell asleep to his soothing voice saying,

  “It’s okay. You’re safe now. Safe . . .”

  I woke in the morning to his soft green eyes gazing at me. I kissed him long and lovingly. He flinched some and I pulled back. He had fared no better than I. His chest and arms were criss-crossed with scorch marks. He had slathered himself with the balm but I didn’t care. I kissed each and every burn.

  “Poor baby,” I said. “I so want to make love with you right now”

  “That will have to wait,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “We have to find her.”

  “I know. Maybe – maybe we should go to the police.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I have a bad feeling. Let’s first see what we can find out.”

  We got on my computer and that’s when we got our first shock. The morning papers had nothing about a fire anywhere.

  We dressed and drove down Balden Drive. There we got a second surprise. There the house stood pretty and pristine. A gardener was working outside, as if nothing happened. But what really blew me away was that the turret was gone.

  We drove to my office and I rang the City Council – yes, Councilwoman Tanner was in her office. I hung up. There was no way that we were going to the cops.

  My next thought was of the little red-haired girl.

  Our newspaper is sneaky. We’ve hacked into databases all over the place. I got into Madison’s middle schools. I started with Badger Rock looking at every student photo. I found the girl in O’Keeffe School. Pretty little Emma Cantor lived on Jennifer Street. Her parents were Mark and Donna.

  I called the house. Donna was home. I explained to her who I was and how I thought that her daughter was in danger. She was near hysterical. I told her to call the police.

  “What now?” Donovan asked.

  “Now we get help.”

  I called Anna Phelps, the Wiccan and told her that I had news. She invited me to her house. She and her wife Cheryl were very gracious, though they eyed Donovan suspiciously.

  “So you were right about me,” I began. “I am a skin-walker. And Donovan,” I said taking his hand, “is a werewolf.”

  They listened calmly as we told them the whole story. Anna was understanding and compassionate. Cheryl was angry. She stood and paced, wringing her hands.

  “Tabitha,” she said, “there were lines on her face you say?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like you could see her capillaries?”

  “Yes,” I said remembering. “I thought that her skin was cracking but—“

  “And she was feverish?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Fools,” Cheryl said.

  “What is it?”

  “They tried an Epíklisi tis Athanasías, an evocation of immortality. They botched it and now the woman’s soul is burning.”

  “Ginny was concerned that she was ‘out of her chamber’,” I said.

  “They have a place where they are burning Sacred Space, it’s a mystical incense that calms the soul and eases the fire.”

  “That could have been the turret,” I said. “But when we drove by this morning it was gone.”

  “It’s still there,” Cheryl said. “It’s just on another plane. There are some real and powerful dark arts here. But what really galls me is that Tabitha was able to feed on your pain. She’s more than a witch, she’s a psychic-vampire, she can absorb life forces, and pain is so full of those forces.”

  “What about that poor girl and her mother?” Anna asked.

  “Safe for the moment,” I
said, “but what is it so special about her?”

  “Her humors, most likely,” Cheryl said. “The balances in her blood need to match the woman exactly.”

  “So they snatch random kids and hope?”I said.

  “No,” Donovan said. “I was given very specific instructions when I was her slave.”

  “Tabitha searches with her crystal,” Cheryl said. “They test the blood and when it’s a reject they let them go. They have to be stopped.”

  “I know,” I said. “Little Emma may be safe, but they’ll keep looking.”

  There was a small silence in the room.

  “Will you help us?”

  ***

  We made a plan.

  I can shift my shape in one of two ways. The way I usually do it is simple mimicry; my body takes the shape of the form I want, but it’s still me inside. The other way is Embracing. When I Embrace I actually become a clone, but that’s complicated. I need real DNA from who or what I wish to copy. If I kiss you or make love with you I get plenty of samples. Getting DNA from a twelve-year-old girl would be tricky.

  It took Anna and Cheryl almost an hour to remove Ginny’s spell. I tested and became Anna. That got a good laugh. I shifted back and then we split up. Donovan and Anna went to Balden Street while Cheryl and I went to visit the Cantors.

  Jennifer Street was on the east side, a nice quite little street in the gentrified Atwood neighborhood. There was a cop parked opposite their house but he didn’t think much about two women ringing the bell. Mark answered the door.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’m Eileen Morgan from the Exposé.”

  His expression softened.

  “I want to know how you found out,” he said.

  “And I do so want to tell you,” I said.

  “Cops are looking for you.”

  “Well, there’s one over there. You can flag him or you can invite us in.”

  He opened the door.

  *****

  The place was nice but in turmoil. The Cantors also had a small son and the two kids were all upset about being taken out of school and wondering why they had to pack and go off to visit their aunt in Minnesota all of a sudden. Donna gushed over me and hugged and thanked me. She wanted to talk but she wanted to get the kids out of the room.

  “It would be better,” I said, “if we all sat down in the living room. My colleague has something to show you.”

  We sat in the living room. The kids were curious when Cheryl took the small clay pot from her bag. She lifted the top and a lovely intoxicating aroma of juniper and olives filled the room. Cheryl smiled, sang a soft chant and waved her arms slowly. The Tanners sat still and seemed quite enchanted.

  “Now you see,” Cheryl began in a lilting voice, “once upon a time there was a bad man . . .”

  She spun a yarn about how we found the guy’s postings on Facebook while I sat by Emma. I took the girl’s arm and pricked it with a needle. She looked at me impassively as the blood beaded.

  “Emma,” Cheryl said, “this is the good part.”

  The girl turned back to her and before the blood could drip I lapped it up. I pressed the tiny wound as I tasted the warm salty stuff. I had what I needed.

  “And so,” Cheryl went on, “you are all so very wise to go to Minnesota for a few days. And, of course, we will be more than happy to house-sit for you. Is that okay?”

  So saying she closed the pot and drew them back slowly.

  “Oh wow,” Emma said. “Just like, oh wow.”

  “That was a cool story,” the boy said. “Is it really true?”

  “Of course it is,” Donna said. “Now let’s get packed. If we hurry we can be at Aunt Peggy’s before dark and you can play in her pool.”

  The excited kids rushed upstairs. Donna thanked us again for everything, especially the house-sitting. Mark went to explain things to the cop. It took them an hour to pack.

  After they had finally left, we went up to Emma’s room. I stripped and got into her bed, snuggling under the covers. Cheryl flinched when she saw my whip marks. I needed to wallow in Emma’s scent and space. I lazed a good long while staring at her things and feeling what she felt.

  Then, with the shadow of the taste of Emma’s blood still in my mouth, I stood and began my own chant. An Embracing morph is slow and somewhat painful. Cheryl flinched and I tried not to groan as my body slowly shrank and my hair grew longer.

  When it was complete I saw myself in the mirror through such bright eyes. I was twelve. My skin was creamy and my cheeks were blushed with strawberry. But best of all my flaming red hair was like gossamer.

  “Get dressed,” Cheryl said.

  She led me to the basement. We needed to be close to the earth. She drew a pentangle on the floor with charcoal. I stepped in the center. She lit incense at each of the five points and began a chant. I felt the air stir then the smoke begin to swirl around me.

  “Tabatha,” she called softly. “Tabitha yellow-hair.”

  It took a few moments, then the whirling air spoke.

  “Who?” a small voice in the wind spoke.

  “A friend,” Cheryl answered. “A friend with a gift.”

  “Oh,” the voice said with an edge of excitement. “Oh dear woman!”

  “I am Cheryl long-gown. You will remember me?”

  “I will dear Cheryl. I will remember forever.”

  And then the air began to glitter. There was a small gust of wind and a sparkle and I felt myself taken and carried away. I flew through the dark and cool of another plane as the lakes rushed beneath me and I was carried in that magic to a house with a turret.

  I appeared in that turret room whole and sound but so very frightened. Frightened like a little girl. It was a delicate place. It was a feminine place. It had a round pink bed in the middle canopied with chiffon flutters and there was a sort of pink mist wafting in the sheets. The bed was in the center of a glowing golden pentangle. The walls beyond seemed so dark and through the distant windows I saw stars.

  “Emma, you are perfect,” Tabitha said stepping from the shadows.

  In the pastel light she looked radiant. The traces of veins on her face were faint and she seemed to glow. Then she stepped to me and she kissed me on the forehead. My little heart trembled.

  “You are the one,” Tabitha said smiling. “You are chosen Emma. You are going to live far better than all of the princesses that you can imagine. You are going to live forever now. Just lie here by me on this bed. It will only hurt for a moment, and then . . . immortality.”

  I looked at her like a twelve-year-old would. She took my hand and led me to the bed. We lay side by side.

  Ginny wheeled in a drip-stand and set a needle into Tabatha’s arm hanging the bag low. The witch’s blood began to flow away. Then she pricked my arm and put the other end into Tabatha. I watched Emma’s blood flow from my arm to Tabatha’s.

  “She is the one,” Tabatha sighed.

  “This will be slow,” Ginny said caressing my cheek. “Just lie back and relax. Let your heart do the work.

  I was going to let them have enough blood to feel that all was well, then I was going to morph into a Banshee. But an Embrace can be a tricky thing and little Emma had other ideas. I felt her heart race with terror. The blood was suddenly surging through my arteries and flooding Tabatha.

  “Too fast,” Tabitha gasped, “too much.”

  Ginny worked the flow valve but then the needle shot out of my arm. My blood spurted across their delicate chiffon bed-curtains spattering Ginny’s face. The woman gasped and Tabitha moaned in agony. I clutched my arm to staunch the bleeding. Ginny slapped me hard across the face and began to try to shove the needle back into me. I screamed.

  “Ginny,” a soft voice from nowhere whispered, “Ginny Greenteeth.”

  The witch startled and looked around.

  “Ginny, would you destroy a child?”

  “Who are you?” she cried out.

  The swirling pink fog turned blood red and began to whirl fa
ster but no answer came.

  “It is just a child,” Ginny said. “Just one child who will live forever in the soul of my dear Tabatha.”

  “She is a child,” the voice said.

  “You don’t understand,” Ginny wailed, “you cannot understand! I love--”

  “Your selfish ways are over, Ginny Greenteeth.”

  “Who are you!”

  “Crone”

  Ginny screamed.

  The red mist became a vortex speeding faster and faster as it coned upward, shattering the roof. Suddenly, through the fog, a werewolf sprang with a roar. Both witches shrieked. The wolf grabbed Tabitha and, with the might of Hercules, flung the witch up and into the screeching winds above. Tabatha shrieked as the winds sucked her. Ginny cried out and leapt desperately for her love. She caught a hand as the woman disappeared and, so, she too vanished.

  Donovan clenched me desperately on the center of the bed as the winds closed in around us pulling the air from my lungs. I passed out.

  I woke in the Cantor’s basement, Donovan holding me tenderly. I was naked and I was myself again. I kissed him long and deep. Then I looked to the smiling witches.

  “Okay,” I said. “What happened?”

  “Tabatha was so desperate that she was stupid,” Anna said. “By accepting our gift she opened her spirit-plane to us and together Cheryl and I called upon the Moon Goddess Crone. Crone was, well, upset.”

  “They’re gone now,” Cheryl said.

  “Gone where?”

  “Just, gone.”

  We drove by the house on Balden Street. There were fire trucks there and a crowd of neighbors watching the turret burn. Cinders danced in the air. We got out to watch. Cheryl and Anna began a chant of cleansing. I looked to Donovan.

  “Well,” he said. “You got quite a story.”

  “I do,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “So, what now?”

  “Now, I suppose that now I release you. You’re free.”

  He held me by my waist and drew me close.

  “You are a skin-walker,” he said. “You hide in other guises, but in truth you’re hiding Eileen.”