Devil's Bargain: An Alastair Stone Urban Fantasy Novel (Alastair Stone Chronicles)

by R. L. King

  “The flyer…called to you.”

  “Yes.” Her gaze flicked up, then back down again. “It had all these weird symbols on it, and a woman’s name, and it said things like I’ll help you achieve your fondest desire…stuff like that. And there was an address, in the Haight. It was on one of those little tear-off things at the bottom, and it was the last one left.”

  “And you went there?” I stared at her, amazed. My sister had always been the kind of girl who’d go off on spontaneous adventures on her own, but so soon after Darby Jameson, I hadn’t thought she’d be brave enough.

  “Yeah. I did. It was this little place—a tiny, shabby-looking shop. I almost missed it. Passed it twice before I finally spotted the door between two bigger ones. And inside, it was…the weirdest thing I ever saw, Tam. It smelled like incense and old things and…something rotten. It had weird posters on the walls that I can’t remember anything about, strange curtains, candles, and a table in the middle with symbols on it. I almost turned around and ran back out.”

  I shuddered. It sounded like some crazy hippie trying to make a few bucks rooking the rubes with spooky stage dressing. “But you didn’t.”

  “No. Because she called out to me.”

  “The woman did.”

  “Yeah. It was like one second she wasn’t there, and then she was. She was so kind to me, Tam…she invited me in, asked me to sit down at her table, and even gave me a cup of tea.”

  I had my own ideas about drinking anything provided by crazy old women in the Haight, but I kept them to myself. Obviously if Susan was here now, seven years later, she must have survived the experience. “So…what happened? What did you do?”

  Susan pushed Emma’s blanket aside and sniffed her to see if she needed a diaper change, then tucked it back around her and put her teething ring in her hand. “She asked me about my life. Just general questions, the same kind of thing you might get from your basic fortune teller. I remember her voice was really comforting…like I’d imagine a grandmother to be. It wasn’t very long before I was pouring out the whole story of what happened with Darby. By the time I was done, I was bawling my eyes out. It felt so good to tell somebody who listened to me—who believed me, and believed I hadn’t brought it all on myself.”

  “I believed you,” I protested.

  Her eyes glittered, and she squeezed my hand. “I know. And I’m grateful for that, Tam. Even after everything, I’ll never forget that. But this was…different. It was like I wished it could have been when I talked to Mom about it. She listened, without any judgement, or interruption. And when I was done, she asked me one question.”

  “What question?”

  “What did I want to do? What did I truly want to happen, if I could have anything I wanted?”

  “And…what did you tell her?” I looked around, but by now, nobody seemed to be paying any attention to us, beyond an occasional to-go customer smiling at Emma on their way to the counter.

  “I told her…I wanted none of it to have happened. I wanted to erase it. But she said she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t change the past, only the future.”

  I almost said, Oh, well, it’s good that charlatan hippie witches know their limitations, but I didn’t. Suze still looked as serious as a heart attack. Instead, I made a noncommittal ‘go on’ sort of noise.

  “So she asked me again—what did I truly want?” She closed her eyes and tightened her grip on her now-empty cup, crumpling it. “And…I told her…I wanted Darby to pay—really pay—for what he did to me.”

  “And she said she could do that?”

  She nodded miserably. “Yes. But she told me nothing is ever free, and magical assistance comes at a high price. She asked if I was prepared to pay it. I told her I didn’t have a lot of money, but what I could get together was hers if she could make it happen.”

  “But that isn’t what she wanted?”

  “No.” Her voice shook as she dragged Emma’s seat closer and once again cast a fearful glance toward the door. “She…she…”

  I leaned in. “What?”

  “She wanted my first-born child.”

  “What?” I almost laughed again—I came even closer this time than last time. This was some messed-up stuff, right here. “And you believed her?”

  Her expression fought between despair and annoyance. “Of course I didn’t. I’m not an idiot. I thought she was a fraud too—it just felt good for somebody to listen. And besides, I knew I wasn’t planning on having kids for years, if at all. Back then I wasn’t sure I ever wanted anything to do with a man again, after Darby. So I said sure, if you can make Darby suffer and pay for what he did, you can have my first-born child.”

  She looked at her empty coffee cup, then at the counter, and finally at Emma. “Would you—bring me another cup of coffee, please?” She reached for her purse.

  “Don’t worry—I’ve got it.” It couldn’t have been clearer to me that she didn’t want to leave Emma, even if I was there to watch her. This crazy story had obviously gotten its hooks into her deep. As I waited in line and got her a fresh cup, I couldn’t help wondering again if Chuck’s death might not have driven her to some kind of mental breakdown.

  I set her cup in front of her and resumed my seat, but didn’t prompt her to speak. I figured it was better to let her do it on her own time.

  It took her a while. “So…” she finally said, “I promised. She made me swear some kind of weird oath, in Latin or something. I didn’t even understand what I was saying. Once I was done, she seemed satisfied. She gave me that same grandma smile and squeezed my hand. ‘Just wait,’ she told me. ‘It won’t be long now, and you’ll have your heart’s desire.’”

  Emma began to fuss again, pushing off her blanket. Susan picked her up, checked her diaper again, then snuggled her into her arms. Almost immediately, she settled back to sleep. She was a good baby, I’ll give her that. “Less than a week later,” she said, speaking now in a dead monotone without looking at me, “Darby splattered himself on the pavement at that party.”

  This time I didn’t laugh, but I did snort. “Come on, Suze, that’s crazy. He went to all kinds of parties like that, got stinking drunk, the whole thing. He probably just slipped and fell over the railing.”

  “But he didn’t just fall,” Susan said. Her hands shook. “I found out later—they did an examination, and it turned out the railing was weak. Structural strain, they called it.”

  “That doesn’t mean a witch was involved,” I protested. “Come on. Do you realize how nuts that sounds? I’d say if it was anything, it was karma. You know, the universe getting back at a shitty person for being shitty. I’m not going to cry any tears for Darby Jameson, but this doesn’t have anything to do with some freaky old hippie you met in the Haight.”

  “That’s what I thought,” she said, once again sounding miserable. “To be honest, the thought crossed my mind at the time, just because of the timing. It seemed like it couldn’t be a coincidence. But as time went on, I forgot about it. I found a counselor, and tried to put Darby out of my mind completely. He was gone, and she convinced me letting him rent space in my head wouldn’t do me any good at all.”

  “Good advice.”

  She sniffled, grabbing a napkin and mopping at the tears welling in her eyes. “It was. But then…a couple of weeks ago…she came.”

  “Who? The counselor?”

  “The witch.”

  I stopped halfway through lifting my cup to my lips. “The witch came to your house?”

  “No. I was out doing some shopping at the mall. Chuck was home that day, so he was watching Emma. I stopped at the food court for lunch, and she sat down across from me.” She shuddered. “I couldn’t believe nobody was paying attention. She had long, wild white hair, and was dressed in all these strange layers. And she smelled weird too. Like her shop. Even though it had been seven years, the smell came back to me like it was yesterday. And nobody seemed to notice her, not even people sitting near us.”

  �
��That’s…weird. What did she say?”

  Susan clutched Emma tighter, until she squeaked and fretted in her arms. “She said she’d come to collect on our bargain.”

  I gaped at her. “You mean she wanted Emma? She actually thought you’d give her your daughter?”

  “She didn’t just think it—she assumed it. Like it was already a done deal. She offered to go home with me so she could collect her, or else we could arrange a meeting for the…” Her words choked in her throat. “…the handoff.”

  “Oh, my God.” Where did my sister find these loonies? “What did you tell her?”

  “I told her she was crazy. I said there was no way I was giving her my baby, and she’d better leave me alone or I’d call the police and have them haul her off.” She took several deep, hitching breaths, getting herself under control, and kissed the top of Emma’s head.

  “What…happened then?” I was almost afraid to ask.

  “People were looking at me like I was the crazy one. Like they still couldn’t see her there. She just smiled at me—it wasn’t a nice, grandma smile this time, but kind of a nasty, sly one—and said I’d better honor our bargain or I’d be sorry. She said she’d give me a week to think it over, and then she’d contact me again.

  “I got the hell out of there after that. I only turned back once to see if she was following me—and she was gone. Not coming after me, not sitting at the table, not anywhere in the food court. Just…gone.”

  “Did you tell anybody? Chuck? The police?”

  “No. I wish I had, but…it was just too crazy, you know? I didn’t think anybody would believe me.” She stared down at her hands, then drew another deep breath. “A week after that, she called me again.”

  “On the phone?” So witches used phones. Interesting.

  “Yeah. She asked me if I was ready to hand over Emma. I told her to go to hell, and leave me alone. I probably should have tried to set something up so I could call the police, but I can’t even tell you how freaked out and frazzled I was. I didn’t even think about it until after.”

  “What…did she say then?”

  She swallowed. “Something like… ‘it’s unfortunate you’ve made that decision. I regret it, but I’ll have to prove to you I’m serious.’ And then she hung up.” When she looked up at me, her eyes were huge and glittered with tears. “And then…that night…Chuck had his accident.” The tears spilled over, rolling down her cheeks. “S-she contacted me again that night, after I found out.”

  “My God, Suze, why didn’t you call the police then? They could have traced the call, or—”

  “You don’t get it.” She paused to get herself under control. “She didn’t use the phone that time. She—she talked to me through the TV.”

  “What?”

  She nodded miserably. “Yeah. I was a mess—the cops had come to tell me about Chuck, and after they left I just sat on the couch with the TV on, holding Emma and crying. Then, all of a sudden, she showed up, right there on the screen. She said—she said she was sorry she’d had to do that, but she’d give me one more week to make up my mind and give her Emma, or worse things would happen.”

  I considered my words. “So…what did you do then?”

  “What could I do? I knew I couldn’t call the police then. What would I tell them? That an old witch wanted my baby, communicated with me over the television, and killed my husband? They’d lock me up and take Emma away from me! Everything got really busy last week, dealing with Chuck’s funeral. My friends stayed with me, and the time got away from me. And then…Suze, I thought I saw her today! She was standing across the street from the church. She looked at me, then faded away.” She lowered her head. “She won’t leave me alone, Suze.”

  For a while, I had nothing to say. I kept looking at her, sitting there across the table from me with her baby in her arms, telling the kind of story that would sound farfetched in one of those B-grade horror movies. I took another swallow of coffee; it was getting cold now, and I wished I’d gotten another cup for myself too. “Suze…I don’t know what to say.”

  “I know. It sounds crazy. I get it. If it were me listening to somebody else tell it, I’d think so too. But it’s not. I promise, it’s not.” Her voice shook, and her eyes glittered with tears. “You have to help me, Tam. I don’t have anybody else to turn to.”

  “Help you? How can I help you? Do you want me to go talk to this so-called witch? Sic the cops on her?”

  Her face went dead pale, and her gaze locked on me. “Oh, my God, no! I don’t want you to go anywhere near her. Haven’t I been telling you—she’s dangerous!”

  “Well, what then?” I was getting exasperated now, and I heard it in my voice. I could see she was in distress and I wanted to help if I could, but believing this cockamamie story about a witch coming after her baby was more of a stretch than I could manage.

  She snatched another quick look around the shop, then leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I need to leave. Run. Get out of here, before she contacts me again. I hate to ask, but—could I borrow some money? We don’t have much savings, not until Chuck’s life insurance comes through, but I can’t wait that long.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Suze…you just want to leave? Take Emma and…go somewhere, without any kind of preparation? Run away from your home, your friends, all to get away from some crazy old woman?”

  “Yes!” The tears in her eyes spilled over, running down her face. A couple dripped onto Emma’s head, making her squeak again. “Tam, please. I’m begging you. Just a couple thousand dollars—enough to get away and get settled somewhere else. Somewhere far away from here, where maybe she won’t be able to find us. And it’s got to be today. I don’t even want to go home first, in case she’s—watching.”

  “How could she be watching?” I got a mental image of a crazy old bat perched on the roof of the house across the street, peering in the window through an old-fashioned spyglass. “Suze, please. I will help you, but not by giving you money to run away from your problems. Come on. Why don’t you give me the number for your counselor, and I’ll give her a call and ask her to meet with you. It sounds like you need to talk to somebody with more qualifications than I have.”

  She stood abruptly, her chair scraping behind her as she shoved it back. “I should have known you wouldn’t help. You never helped me—you always just wanted to judge me because it made you feel better about yourself.” She hitched a couple of breaths, then lowered her head. “No…no…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” I got up too, walking around the table to put my arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay. I know you’re going through hell right now. Come on. Are you okay to drive? Why don’t we go back to your place, get Emma settled, and we can talk some more. We can check to make sure no crazy old witches are watching before we go in. I’ll stay as long as you need me, and if you need to talk to somebody else, I’ll help with that too. Okay?”

  Her gaze flicked up. She swallowed, adjusted her grip on Emma, and swiped a napkin over her eyes. A few customers were casting surreptitious glances our way now, no doubt wondering what the drama was about. If they only knew…

  “Yeah…” she said after a long pause. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry. Everything’s just been—so overwhelming. I guess I can wait a little while. I’ll meet you back at my house.” She tossed the damp napkin back on the table and put her shaking arm around me. “Thanks, Tam. You always were the logical one in the family.”

  “You’ll get through this. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but you will.”

  I walked out with her, watched as she carefully and lovingly strapped Emma into her car seat in the back of her Honda, and gripped her hand in what I hoped was an encouraging way before she got in. “I’ll see you in a few minutes,” she called, and drove off.

  That was the last time I ever saw her alive.

  3

  “Mom?”

  I t
wisted around in my chair. Melanie stood in the doorway, dressed in her Mickey Mouse pajamas, her brown hair tousled. She looked troubled. “You should be asleep, baby.”

  “I know.” She crept hesitantly into the room and perched on the chair across from me. “Have you heard anything else about Aunt Susan yet?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Where do you think she could be?”

  I almost snapped at her that I didn’t know, and that if I knew, I wouldn’t be half-slumped in my recliner in front of some TV police procedural I hadn’t been paying a damn bit of attention to. But I didn’t. None of this was her fault.

  “I don’t know, kiddo. I’m sure she and Emma are fine, and the police will find them soon. Now go back to bed, okay? And don’t wake Max up.”

  She eyed me dubiously, then hopped off her chair. “Okay. Good night, Mom.”

  “Good night, Mel. I love you.”

  I waited until I heard her door close down the hall, then let my breath out. It was going to be a long night; I wished I could have a good stiff drink, but that would be a bad idea with two kids in the house.

  How could I have been so stupid, so naïve? Susan had been terrified about the whole ‘evil witch’ thing—why had I let her drive off on her own, especially when she’d said she was afraid to go home because the witch might be watching the house? If I’d insisted on driving her home instead of letting her go by herself, would anything have changed?

  When I’d arrived at her house, nobody had been there. I saw no sign of her Honda in the driveway. My feeling of dread already intensifying, I knocked on the door and rang the bell several times, but no one answered. “Susan! Open the door!” I called. “It’s me! Let me in!”

  “I don’t think she’s home, dear,” called a voice.

  I spun, and found myself facing Mrs. Bond again, the neighbor lady I’d met at the funeral reception. She stood on the porch of the neat gray house next door, eyeing me in confusion. “How do you know?”

  “Well…I just got home myself a few minutes ago, and when she’s home she normally parks in the driveway there. The garage is full of Chuck’s projects and old furniture.”