How to Ditch Dead Guys (The Witch's Handbook Book 2)

by Ann M. Noser

  “No. It can’t be. Not now,” Steve whimpers in my head.

  Three thugs cover the entrance, shooting out the lights and cameras.

  Breaking glass falls from the ceiling.

  The cashier drops to the floor.

  More gang members burst into the gas station. My arm burns as I stare at their Cobra tattoos. I reach for my bag as a hood charges me. He grabs my arm, twisting it behind my back.

  “Let go of me!” I scream.

  “Shut up, bitch,” a deep voice growls in my ear. “They’re over here!” he calls out.

  The hoodlums flood our aisle. Walker’s eyes bug as he reaches for the gun that isn’t there. Two hoods spin him around and pin him over the ice cream freezer. They bind his arms together behind him.

  Thugs surround us.

  A sneering punk steps in front of me, holding out his hand for my stash of papers. “I’ll take that.”

  “You can’t give it to him!” Steve begs. “Not after all I went through. Please, Emma.”

  “You can’t have it,” I say.

  He slaps me. My eyes water, but I don’t make a sound. My ears ring and buzz.

  “Let’s try this again,” he growls. “Give me those fuckin’ papers, bitch.”

  He rips them out of my hands. Steve shudders. These creeps already killed him once, and now they’re threatening him again, this time trapped inside my body.

  “Help me,” begs Steve. “Emma, it’s up to you now.”

  I struggle to focus.

  I need to get to the beach, control the gang members’ minds.

  I close my eyes and open my mind.

  WHOMP!

  A harder blow to the face, and I fall to the floor, gasping.

  “Don’t try no mind games on me, witch,” the thug warns.

  I struggle to breathe. What am I going to do? They’re going to kidnap me and kill everyone else in this place.

  Something large and furious flashes by the front glass door.

  An accompanying deep growl whispers, HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE AVENGING ANGELS. I LEFT THOSE SPIRITS WITHIN YOU FOR A REASON. IT’S TIME TO SET THEM FREE.

  But how? I almost yell aloud, desperate for the answer.

  The necklace crackles and hums like an old radio. “Emma, can you hear me?”

  Grandma? Is that you? How many voices can be in my head at one time? This is crazy, not that I don’t appreciate the help, of course.

  “That’s right. You better be good at following directions,” she warns. “Now, do everything I say. Let’s kick some butt.”

  I smile at the thug. “You better watch out. Grandma’s pissed.”

  “You’re one crazy bitch.” He sneers.

  Grandma gasps in my head. “Nobody calls my granddaughter a bitch.”

  The thug flies across the room and smashes against the far wall.

  Muffled screams follow.

  Wow. Grandma. You rock. I wish I was that strong.

  “I’ve never understood that phrase,” Grandma mutters.

  Shots ring out across the store, sending another shower of sparks from the ceiling.

  I have to keep my friends alive, even if one of them is a Book snatcher.

  A short Cobra yells out, “He’s dead.”

  “Leave him,” another calls back.

  “All the security cameras are down,” reports another.

  A tall thug nods. “We got five minutes. Enough time to take care of Mr. Nosy Cop.”

  Walker’s nose is bleeding. A stocky thug holds him upright.

  “We drove by your house that night your girlfriend tried to set the world on fire,” the tall Cobra taunts. “Or didn’t she tell you? Good thing she didn’t succeed in killing herself. Master thinks she’d make a great personal slave.”

  “Leave her alone!” Jake snarls on my left. Two Cobras struggle to contain him.

  “Ooh, I like him!” says Bertha.

  But why’d he have to come in here? I fret. Now I have to worry about protecting him, too.

  “Don’t you know anything about love?” asks Bertha.

  I hear a whimper and scan the store. Customers slump unconscious against the dairy cooler. Spilled milk streams across the floor.

  One Cobra holds a gun to Laura’s forehead.

  Another presses a knife against Phoebe’s throat.

  Laura’s pale face drips tears, while Phoebe glares defiantly at her captor. Her eyes catch mine and she stiffens.

  The guy restraining Phoebe scowls. “You’re not thinking of leaving, are you honey? The party’s just getting started. I’ve got special plans for you, pretty girl.”

  One of his buddies laughs. “Better make it quick, T-Jay. You got three minutes, tops. But, knowing you, that’s all you’ll need.”

  “Disgusting!” Bertha mutters. “Now get ready to move. You’ll need your Book, even if it is inferior to mine.”

  Since I fell on my right arm, my bag remains hidden beneath me. I creep my fingers into the bag. It takes forever to find the fabric cover.

  Got it.

  “Now stand up,” she instructs.

  I rise to my feet.

  “Haven’t had enough?” A Cobra sneers, stepping toward me.

  “Aim the Book at him!” Bertha orders.

  “Stand back!” I hold out my Book with unsteady hands. Blue light flashes from the cover. The approaching Cobra flies across the room instead, smashes into the milk freezer, and drops to the floor dead.

  The other Cobras gasp. “What the Hell? What was that? That bitch is crazy!”

  I will my shaking legs to still. Now what?

  “Let the Book show you the way,” Grandma directs from inside my head.

  I open the cover. The pages flutter to a protection spell. I memorize it.

  “Don’t try to be a hero.” The tall Cobra aims a gun at me. “Sit your ass down.”

  I smile sweetly. “Did someone say all the cameras are down?”

  “Yes,” he snaps. “Now sit!”

  “That’s good.” Confidence floods my limbs. “Then no one will see how you’re all going to die.”

  I hold out the Book of Shadows. An earthquake of power runs up my arms.

  “We can’t take her alive-just kill her now!” shrieks one of them. “Master can always bring her back.”

  I laugh then cough as blood drains into the back of my throat.

  The punk’s arms shake as he holds the gun. “Aren’t you afraid of death, little girl?”

  I cock my head to one side. “Been there, done that already.”

  “Oh, good,” says Grandma. “You’re a smart-ass. You did inherit something from me.”

  Blinding light flashes through the entire store. The Cobras raise their hands over their eyes. A thin whine hums in my ears. I raise the Book of Shadows and chant:

  “Use those murdered to protect my friends

  Protect them all until the end

  I summon thee.

  I summon thee.”

  I repeat my words until they blur together.

  “Use those murdered!

  Protect my friends!”

  Gunshots ring out. Cigarette boxes crash upon the cash register.

  Magazines, drink cups, and napkins fly through the air.

  “Protect them all until the end!”

  Oil cans swirl over our heads.

  Energy surges through every molecule of my body.

  “I summon thee!”

  Something rips deep inside.

  A flash of blond hair races by.

  Jennifer, help me.

  Long, dark hair fills my sight then dashes away.

  Eva, protect my friends.

  Cobras hurtle through the air, screaming in agony.

  Glass shatters onto the floor.

  “I summon thee!”

  Another tearing from deep inside.

  Blood dances within my veins.

  A tattooed arm flashes in front of me.

  “Holy shit! Dominic?” A Cobra’s voice morphs into a h
owl of pain.

  “I summon thee!”

  The ripping inside me intensifies. Arms and legs being pulled out of their sockets.

  I gulp air, trying to endure the pain.

  “I summon thee!”

  “You’re all dead meat!” Steve hollers as he leaps away.

  Cries of agony bounce off the walls.

  With all the spirits gone, I stagger blindly, knocking down a metal rack behind me.

  Shadow stands near the entrance, gun raised in the air, pointed directly at me.

  The gunshot echoes across the room.

  I clench the Book of Shadows as a bullet pierces its center.

  The air sparks with the energy of a sudden pressure change.

  The glass doors of the frozen food section heave and shudder until they blow apart.

  The Book explodes in a shower of shredded paper.

  The whole world turns blood red as a volcano erupts within my head.

  I sob, clenching the mangled book with my trembling hands.

  Writhing in pain, I scream as the world shifts from red to black.

  all it.”

  “Time of death: 3:45 p.m.”

  unlight filters through the leafy canopy. Ripe raspberries line the worn dirt path, deep in the woods near my childhood home. Birds sing and leaves rustle. Stepping out from under the heavy shade, I approach the dry, dusty sledding hills that bake in the summer sun.

  A man waits at the bottom, wearing a blue short-sleeved shirt.

  “Dad? Dad!” I race down the steep decline, a shower of sand cascading before me.

  “Emma?” He smiles, his face tanned and healthy, as I reach his side. “Thank goodness I found you. Your mother was worried.”

  “How did you get so tall?” My head only reaches to his waistline.

  “We need to hurry.” He grabs my hand and pulls me down the path. “I know you didn’t practice much this week, but you still have to go to your lessons.”

  “Dad, what are you talking about? I stopped taking piano back in high school.”

  His eyes crinkle. “You must face the music, as it were.”

  Sunlight blinds me. Again I find myself in the woods among the raspberries, long past their season. Trees flash past as I rush toward the sledding hill, zipping up my jacket to block out the crisp breeze. My steps crunch on crunchy, fall leaves until I reach the brink of the sandy hill.

  There he is again, huddled in a navy blue windbreaker.

  “Dad! I’m here.” I race down the hill.

  This time he doesn’t seem so tall. “Emma, you’re too old to fight like this with your mother and then run off into the woods for hours. You’re upsetting her.”

  This is getting weird, but I’ll play along this time. “How come we never fight, Dad?”

  He smiles. “Because we’re alike. Mom’s different. She’s special. You and I, we’re peas in a pod, and you don’t even like peas.”

  Sunlight flashes in my eyes and, once again, I’m hiking the wooded trail. Heart pounding, I race to the sledding hill, slipping on the snow and ice. Once I reach the crest, I pause to catch my breath. Dad faces away from me, this time wearing only a hospital robe that swallows his thin form. His hand pats his neck, as if searching for something.

  “Dad! I’m here!” I run, almost tumbling down the hill in my hurry to reach him.

  He faces me, eyes wide and confused. “Honey, where’s my necklace?”

  “I’m wearing it.” I pull it out from under my T-shirt.

  He smiles, but weakly, as if it takes some effort. “Oh, good. I wanted you to have it. It’s your grandmother’s. You’ll need her help.”

  I place a hand on his icy arm. “You’re freezing. We should get inside.”

  His eyes search the snow-tipped evergreens lining the embankments on both sides of the sledding hill. “No. I’m waiting for someone. Your friend Steve was here earlier, but he got chased off.”

  “Chased by who?”

  His eyes scan the tree line. “I’m not sure. It looked like an enormous dog, but its eyes were human.”

  “Dad. I think that was God.”

  His eyes widen. “That’s why It winked at me. I always knew God had a sense of humor. Oh, look, there’s Steve now.”

  I spin around to search where he’s pointing. A faded, flowered dress flits in between the trees.

  “That’s not Steve. That’s Grandmother. Can’t you tell?”

  He squints. “Oh. You’re right.”

  As she approaches, Bertha’s tangled gray hair lengthens and darkens to black. Her dress flutters in the cold breeze until a deep purple gown takes its place. Over her neck hang two necklaces, both identical to mine.

  Dad’s face brightens, despite its pallor. “I missed you, Mom.”

  She lifts one of the necklaces over her head and places it around my father’s neck. He takes a deep breath and his face flushes with color. In seconds, a jacket and jeans replace his hospital robe. He gulps deep breaths.

  Grandma turns to me. “I’ll be seeing you again soon, I’m afraid.”

  Crows cackle in the distance.

  “Why?” I ask her. “Are we still in trouble?”

  She laughs. “No. I’ve been forgiven for saving my son. Now that he’s passed on the necklace, the balance of nature has been restored. But that was a small problem, only affecting me. There are much worse things out there to worry about.”

  The cawing birds swarm closer. A whole flock circles overhead, screaming their jarring song.

  Bertha watches the crows swirl and dip in the sky. “The Cobras still want you, my dear. They lust for your Book and the power you have when you use it. What you battled at the gas station was only the tip of the iceberg. They’ll keep coming back for you. No… Wait a minute…”

  Moving as one, the whole group swoops down once more before tearing away, screaming in unison.

  “They’re leaving.” I watch until they’re no longer even black dots in the sky.

  “Something’s changed. They’re not after you anymore.” Grandma grabs my shoulders and stares deep into my eyes. “You’ll have to go after them instead.”

  “What?” I back away. “Why would I do that?”

  Grandma points at my necklace. “Never take that off. You need all the protection you can get. Your Dad and I have to go now. But I’ll be back. I promise. And in the mean time, you should clean out John’s study.”

  She lets go of my arm and walks away, my father at her side.

  “Dad’s study? But it’s locked,” I call after them.

  “Then find the key.” Her words float back to me as both of them disappear.

  I’m alone again with only the trees for company.

  The necklace warms my neck and chest, glowing pink and purple. Like a burner on an unchecked stove, the heat builds. I claw at the necklace as it sends electric shocks directly into my heart.

  My chest fills with explosions.

  “CLEAR!”

  age three of the Leader-Telegram Newspaper:

  John Roberts, 58, passed away Friday at Sacred Heart Hospital, in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. At the age of 24, he opened the first Roberts’ Lumber and Hardware store, which became a nationwide chain.

  Survivors include his wife (Cheryl) and daughter (Emma).

  Funeral services will be held at 11 a.m. Wednesday at St. Olaf’s parish, with Father Joseph O’Malley presiding. Friends and family may call one hour prior to the service.

  In lieu of flowers, please send donations to M.A.G. (Mothers Against Gangs).

  ront page of Leader-Telegram Newspaper:

  Eau Claire policeman Officer Charlie Walker has been credited with saving the lives of twelve people Friday afternoon at a gas station shootout. Although unarmed and outnumbered, Walker managed to disarm members of the notorious Chicago Cobra gang, thought to be in the area due to his “Smiley Face” murder investigation. Eight gang members were killed during the confrontation. At least one escaped.

  The cashier, name withh
eld, was shot and killed. Several others suffered concussions and were treated at the hospital. Most were released within 24 hours. Four remained at the hospital overnight before discharge. One remains in critical condition.

  Phoebe Swift, one of the survivors, spoke at length of the incident. “Charlie saved us all. He was amazing. He must study karate or maybe kick-boxing. The way he jumped around, it looked just like a Jackie Chan movie.”

  In response to questions, Charlie Walker claimed that “it was all a blur” and he has “no further comments.”

  swirl my hand in the Chippewa River, but my fingers remain dry. I keep plunging my hand in and out, but can’t feel the water.

  “C.S. Lewis, The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, page one…”

  I spin around to find Father Joe sitting on Putnam Rock. In his hands rests the children’s book I’ve read more times than any other. Over and over again I disappeared into the wardrobe, wishing I never had to come out.

  “Your mother says it’s your favorite.” Father Joe clears his throat. “I hope she’s right and didn’t just choose this because it seemed ‘church-appropriate.’“

  “Father, what are we doing here?” I ask.

  His eyes never leave the page. “Emma, I have to tell you how sorry I am. I failed to protect you from the demons. Just look at what they’ve done to you.”

  “Don’t worry. The spirits are gone.” I stand up to show him, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “See? I’m fine now.”

  He looks right through me. “I didn’t finish the job I was trained to do.”

  I step right in front of him but he doesn’t react. “Can’t you hear me?” I ask, waving my arms.

  He sighs, rubbing his forehead. “But I didn’t come here to wallow. I came to read. They say that you can hear me. Here we go…”

  By the third page, I grow sleepy. I want to sit down and rest my head on his shoulder.

  Instead I step into the wardrobe.

  The wind whips my hair as I stand on the bridge. The Chippewa River rushes past, always in a hurry.

  “Emma, you can’t just leave me.” Jake leans on the bridge railing, his shoulders slumped.

  “Jake!” I run to him.

  He never even looks at me. “Not when I’m back, maybe for good. I couldn’t bear it if you went on without me.”