by R. L. King
“This isn’t over,” Mrs. Bond had said. If only I’d known what she meant. I felt ashamed, but part of me had to admit if I’d known I’d put Mel and Max at risk, I might not have tried so hard to get Emma back.
They treated her well…a little voice in my head said. They took good care of her. What if you’d just—
I was appalled to even think that way. No! I’m not leaving my sister’s baby in the hands of witches!
Stone’s expression grew positively dangerous as he kept talking. His jaw tightened, his brow furrowed, and even from here I could see how tightly his hand gripped the receiver. After a couple of minutes, he hung up and came back to the car, dropping into the driver’s seat.
“What’s going on?” I demanded. “Who did you call?”
“Madame Minna.”
I glared at him, shocked and astonished. “What? Why? How did you even find her?”
“I called her shop. She was waiting for our call. I thought she might be.”
“She—she was? What did she want? Does she have Mel and Max? Are they all right? Are they alive?” The questions tumbled out of me almost faster than my mouth could get them out.
He raised a hand. “Slow down. Yes—she has your children. She must have used an illusion to impersonate you long enough to get them from your ex-husband.”
“Damn you, Mark…Why did you…how could you not know…” I growled, even as some part of me realized I was just looking for someplace to anchor my growing terror and anger.
“Don’t blame him. She’s proven herself to be a bloody good illusionist, and fooling unsuspecting mundanes is easy.”
I took a few gulping breaths. Emma was still crying, but it had quieted to low, unhappy sobs instead of loud wails. “What—does she want?” I asked the question even though I already knew the answer.
“She proposes a trade: Emma for Max and Melanie. She claims that since the baby has already been rightfully given to her by your sister’s promise, she is within her rights to claim her.”
“And…” I swallowed. “If I don’t agree to give her Emma?”
He didn’t answer.
I grabbed his arm. “What then, Dr. Stone? Is she going to kill my kids, like she did Susan and Chuck? She’d kill children to get her way?”
He bowed his head. “She didn’t say specifically. But she implied as much.”
I couldn’t think. I couldn’t process words, or concepts, or anything beyond the sheer horror of what was before me. I couldn’t deal with this. This wasn’t the kind of problem normal, everyday people like me had to deal with. My problems were things like sick kids, or arguments with Mark, or unexpected overtime when I’d been planning a weekend away. Nowhere in the “normal person” handbook did it cover things like deciding whether to hand over your baby niece to an evil witch to keep her from killing your own two children. I had no frame of reference for this!
“Ms. Huntley—”
“No!” I shouted, startling Emma. I glared at Stone. “She can’t have Emma, and she’s not getting Max and Mel either. She’s not going to win! I won’t let her! I’ll—I’ll fight her myself if I have to. Just show me where to go, and I’ll—”
Something in his expression changed. He’d been looking at me with a combination of sympathy and regret, but at my words his gaze hardened. Was that respect I saw in his eyes?
“Brava, Ms. Huntley,” he said softly. “I admire your courage—truly I do. But I don’t think that’s the wisest course of action. Let me take you somewhere safe, where you can look after Emma. I’ll go to Madame Minna, and—”
“No.” I shook my head, surprised at how firm I sounded. “No, Dr. Stone. This is my problem. It’s my kids in danger. I came to you for help, and I appreciate everything you’ve done. I’d never have gotten Emma back without you. But this is…something I have to do. I have to see this through.”
“I don’t think you—”
I rounded on him. “What if we pretended to go along with her? What if we took Emma to her and pretended like we were going to give her up? We could make her show us Max and Mel are safe, and then…could you…” I trailed off.
“Could I attack her?”
I realized I was asking a lot of this man I still barely knew. I was asking him to risk his life for me, for Emma, for my kids. This was my problem, not his. What was I risking? I let my breath out. My plan was already falling apart. “I don’t know…I can’t ask you to…”
“You don’t have to ask, Ms. Huntley.” He gripped my shoulder. “I’m already involved, and I’ll see it through to the end. I like your plan, and I think it has a chance of working. But before we do anything, I want you to understand something. I won’t let you go into this without full awareness of how it could end—how it’s likely to end, in fact.”
“Wh-what’s that?” I pulled Emma closer again, rubbing her back with gentle strokes.
“If this plan goes pear-shaped, you could lose Emma and your children.”
I sniffled, nodding. “I know that.”
“You could lose your life. Madame Minna has already proven she’s willing to kill for what she believes is her due. Even if you were safe before because you weren’t part of the situation, that won’t be true anymore. You’ve made yourself part of the situation. Both of us have. And while I’m fairly sure I can keep you safe while we’re there, I can’t protect you for the rest of your life.”
I nodded again. “I know.” I looked up at him. “Do you—know any others like you? Anyone else who could help us?” My voice took on a faint tinge of hope. If there were witches like Madame Minna and Mrs. Bond, and men—wizards? Warlocks?—like Stone, there had to be others, right?
But his expression dashed my hopes. “We haven’t got time. She’s given us an hour to come to her shop. Even if I could find someone else to help, I couldn’t contact them and persuade them in that short a time. I’m afraid we’re on our own, Ms. Huntley. Are you sure you won’t let me—”
“No. I’m coming along.” I gestured toward the steering wheel. “Come on—let’s get going. If we’ve only got an hour, we’re already cutting it short.” Every self-preservation instinct inside me cried out against what I was proposing—how could I even be considering taking Emma, a tiny, innocent baby, into this horrible woman’s lair? Part of me wanted to do exactly what Susan had been trying to do: run, get as far away as possible from the Bay Area. But there was no way I would leave without Max and Melanie, and if I didn’t show up with Emma, I didn’t have any doubt the witch would kill them.
“Please, Dr. Stone,” I begged when he didn’t start the car. “Let’s go. I know what I’m getting myself into. I’ll do whatever it takes to get them back.”
He studied me for a moment, as if trying to decide something for himself, then nodded once and switched on the Jaguar’s ignition. As he backed out of the space, he turned to me again. “If you’re the sort who prays, Ms. Huntley, I suggest this might be a good time to do it.”
17
It was after ten p.m. when we reached the little street where Madame Minna’s shop was located. Stone parked the Jaguar in a garage a block away, pausing to focus on the car for a few seconds before we left.
“What was that for?” I asked. I still had Emma held close against me to fight the slight chill in the air. She didn’t have a hat, and I was afraid she’d catch a cold.
“See for yourself.”
I turned back to the car, and gasped. Instead of a gleaming black Jaguar in the spot where he’d parked, I saw an utterly nondescript, beat-up beige sedan that blended in with all the other cars in the garage. “How did you—”
“I call it a disregarding spell. It’s a specialized form of illusion that makes an item—in this case the car—blend in with its surroundings.” He gave a grim smile. “Helps save on vandalism and break-ins.”
“Yeah…” I muttered. I followed him up the street, ignoring the homeless people seated along the sidewalk as they called out to us for handouts or muttered to themsel
ves as they huddled in their sleeping bags and under their blankets. I felt bad for them, but right now I had more on my mind.
The shops along the street were all closed at this hour. Madame Minna’s was as dark as the others. “She’s here?” I asked as we approached it. “It looks closed. Could she be—”
As we drew up next to the door, a light switched on inside.
Stone took a deep breath. “Okay. Here goes. Please try to stay as calm as possible. I won’t let her take the child, but she might try to wind you up so you’re off your guard. You can’t let that happen.”
“I’ll try.” I had no idea what I’d do if she tried to take Emma away, but realistically staying calm probably wasn’t it.
Stone pushed open the door—it was unlocked—and walked in. I followed close on his heels. The bell on the door tinkled ominously.
The place looked just as I remembered it, with the table and two chairs, the chandelier, the fussy paintings, and the heavy curtain separating the waiting area from the back of the shop. Last time I was here, I’d thought the subjects of the various paintings were watching me; now they made no secret of it, their flat, dead eyes following our every movement.
“Madame Minna!” Stone called in a strong, clear voice. “We’re here. Show yourself, and let’s get this farce over with.”
A laugh echoed through the room. “Please—come on back. I’m waiting for you.”
I gripped Emma tighter and followed the grim-faced Stone back through the curtain.
Unlike the front part of the shop, the back part looked nothing like it did last time I was here. The purple-covered table and red lamp were gone, and in their place was an old-fashioned, elaborately upholstered sofa flanked around its sides and back with candles on stands. The rear part of the room was wreathed in darkness. Madame Minna, dressed in a green silk robe with a cameo at her throat, sat in the center of the sofa, looking as calm and unruffled as a sleek toad waiting for a fly to wander by. Her long white hair was in a neat bun at her neck, and her feet, in shiny black slippers, didn’t touch the floor. In anyone else it would have looked ridiculous—how can you be intimidating with your feet dangling like a little girl?—but it didn’t take anything away from her creepiness. Her black, oil-drop gaze settled on us.
“You needn’t have come, Dr. Stone,” she said in her creaky, kindly voice. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“Oh, it does,” he said. “Very much so, in fact. Think of me as a…consultant. It’s unrealistic to expect Ms. Huntley to deal with matters like this without some expert help.”
The old woman shrugged. “No matter.” Her gaze flicked to Emma. “You brought the child, I see. Good. It truly does pain me, what I’ve had to do.”
I wanted to hide the baby inside my coat. I didn’t even want that old hag looking at her. Instead, I said, “You killed my sister. You killed her husband. And now you’ve taken my kids. You’ll pardon me if I don’t believe how broken up about it you are.”
Stone shot me a cautionary look, but I ignored it. “Where are my children? Nothing is happening here before you prove to me they’re safe.”
“Oh, they’re quite safe.” She gestured, and the light came up in the back of the room to reveal a mattress on the floor. Melanie and Max lay on it, stretched out next to each other. They wore pajamas, and both appeared asleep, unconscious, or—
“Oh, my God…” I moaned. “Are they—”
“They are alive and well. Merely under a light spell to keep them from awakening. They will remember nothing of what occurred tonight. If you give me the baby, you can take them home and they will awaken in the morning believing they had nothing but an unusual dream.”
I wanted to run over and check them, to look into their faces, to watch their chests rise and fall with their breathing, but to do that I would have to get closer to Madame Minna—and worse yet, take Emma closer to her. Instead, I stood glaring at her. “Why do you want Emma, anyway?” I demanded. “What are you going to do with a baby? You and Mrs. Bond?”
“Ms. Huntley…” Stone murmured. He stood next to me; his expression was calm but even without the ability to see these ‘auras’ he kept talking about, I could tell he was tense. I guess I wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping it together, but every time I looked at the horrible old witch’s smug face, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to grab her by her fleshy, wattled neck and shake her until she either released Emma or suffocated.
Instead, I waved him off. “I want to know, Dr. Stone. I want her to tell me why she wants this baby before I hand my own flesh and blood over to a stranger.” I addressed Madame Minna again: “So, why? Are you going to use her for some kind of Satanic sacrifice? Are you going to drink her blood? Carve her up for a ritual? Are you and Mrs. Bond going to sit around a table and eat her with tea and cookies?”
Madame Minna’s smile faded, and for the first time she looked serious, not smug or kindly. “Oh, my goodness no, dear. Nothing of the sort! As I told you before, she will be treated well. Probably better than her own parents treated her. She has a destiny, and I will see her fulfill it.”
“What kind of destiny?” This conversation was veering sharply into Crazyland again. “She’s a baby! What kind of destiny could she have that would make you want to take her from her parents? To kill her parents to get your hands on her?” My voice rose, and I did nothing to stop it.
“She’s a practitioner,” Stone said softly, in wonder. He sounded like he’d just realized it.
I rounded on him. “What?”
He still focused on Madame Minna. “Emma is—or will be—a practitioner. Yes?”
The old woman’s brow furrowed, but she nodded, pleased. “Indeed, she has the potential.”
“What are you two talking about?” I yelled. I glared at Stone, careful not to jostle Emma in my arms. “What do you mean, a ‘practitioner’?”
“It’s difficult to tell at such a young age,” he said, still addressing Madame Minna. “But it appears she believes Emma has magical ability.”
“What?” I yelled again, my gaze zooming back and forth between them. “You’re talking about Emma? You two are saying that she—a baby!—is a—a witch?”
“Not yet,” Stone said. “But she seems to think Emma will be—or could be—someday.”
I felt my world shifting under me. I looked down at Emma’s wispy blonde hair and her chubby baby face, not sure what I expected to see. A forked tongue? Slit eyes, like a cat? Warts? Of course I saw none of these—she looked like the same sweet Emma as she always had. “That…is…insane. She’s lying!”
“She might not be.” Stone looked at Emma with his fuzzed-out gaze. “I can’t tell without closer examination, but—” He glanced up at Madame Minna. “You checked, I trust? That was part of the reason for placing Mrs. Bond next door and not claiming the child as soon as she was born?”
“Just so.” Madame Minna’s tone was calm again; she spoke to Stone as if they were two colleagues discussing a business plan. “As I am sure you know, it’s very difficult to identify such things so early, but with extensive testing over time it is possible. I suspected as much when her mother first came into my shop. It was why I struck the bargain with her.”
I felt my mouth drop open. What was going on? “Her mother?” I yelled. “My sister? Susan? You suspected this seven years ago?”
Stone put a hand on my arm. “Magical ability runs in families, Ms. Huntley, passing along gender lines. It often doesn’t breed true, and there are quite a number of people who have the potential without ever realizing it. In these people, it often manifests in odd behavior, a general dissatisfaction with mundane life, and even occasional flashes of strange events occurring around the person.”
I thought about what a wild child Susan had been, how she’d never seemed to fit in, how she always rebelled against any kind of conformity or rules. But that didn’t mean she was a witch! It just meant she’d been spoiled and self-centered before she’d married Chuck and finally settled d
own.
“No!” I shouted, backing away. “This isn’t happening! Emma isn’t a witch! She can’t be!” Stone started to say something, but once again I waved him off and glared at Madame Minna. “And anyway, you didn’t know—you said yourself you didn’t! What would you have done if it had turned out she wasn’t? Would you still have insisted Susan hand her over? Would you still have killed her and Chuck if she refused?”
“Of course not,” Madame Minna said, her calm unaffected by my increasing agitation. “I had no interest in the baby if she turned out to be mundane. That was why I sent Mrs. Bond to gain your sister’s trust and look after the child, and why I waited so long—so we could make a definitive determination. If she had been mundane, I simply would have gone on my way and allowed your sister to assume I was nothing but a crazy old woman who’d long forgotten any sort of strange promise. If she even remembered our meeting at all.”
She shifted forward, dropping her small feet to the carpet and standing. “Now—no more stalling. You will give me the child, as promised. I give you my word she will be raised well, treated well, and most importantly, allowed to grow into her potential. You and Dr. Stone will leave here, take your children home to their beds, and nothing more will be said of the matter. It will be in your best interests to simply forget the baby ever existed, to allow the world to believe her lost.”
Something broke inside me as I gazed into those tiny black eyes. “No,” I said, and was surprised at how firm I sounded. “You can’t have her, and you can’t have my children.”
Madame Minna looked fretful. She glanced at me, and then at Stone. “Dr. Stone—you know our ways. You know that such an oath, given and sealed voluntarily, is binding. Explain to this mundane woman that she has no choice.”
For a second that seemed to stretch to an eternity, I thought he might agree with her. After all, he was a wizard, a warlock, whatever it was called—he did magic—which made him closer to her than he was to me. I was nothing but a “mundane.” I was just a suburban mother who, up until a couple days ago, didn’t even believe magic existed.
