Bones of the Witch

by A. L. Knorr

  His expression cleared and his face was taken over by a gleam of excitement. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

  But before I could answer properly, he was barreling forward. “I could help you with it, I’ve got more than the local museum even has. I could give you all sorts of fascinating points, the whole timeline.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand before getting up and going to his bookcase. “Half of this shelf alone is jammed with Blackmouth and Highland history….”

  I let Lachlan go on for a while. It was mildly interesting, actually, but mostly I didn’t have the heart to cut off his enthusiasm when he was on a roll. Before I left Lachlan’s place I’d been informed of Blackmouth’s place in Jacobite history, its main clans, how its residents had suffered over the years, and more than I’d ever need to know about the movement of common medieval commodities such as oatmeal and beef, and diseases that sprang from spoiled grain. My head was whirling as Lachlan led me to the front door.

  “Sorry, I got a bit carried away,” Lachlan said as he retrieved my coat from his front closet. “I’ve kept you up.”

  “Don’t be silly, you’ve been so helpful,” I replied, stifling a yawn.

  “Let me drive you back to the castle.”

  “That’s really sweet, but I love the walk.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I nodded. In truth, I was tired, and the big hill leading back up to Blackmouth Castle was daunting after a long day. But now that I had the location of the old jail, I wasn’t planning to go straight home.

  I took in Lachlan’s profile, the shadow of a beard on his cheek, the soft lips, and my breath caught momentarily in my throat. He threw me another one of those megawatt smiles as he helped me with my coat.

  I zipped up my coat and ignored the warm feeling growing in my belly.

  Our gazes caught on one another’s like burrs to wool and my mouth went dry. Seconds ticked by until I found my voice. “Thanks for your help.”

  His blue eyes softened. “It’s my pleasure, Georjie. Really.”

  I almost stopped breathing when it occurred to me that I might get that kiss he’d threatened. Was I ready for that? Swiftly, I admitted that I was, but then he was holding the door open for me and the moment was over.

  Chapter 18

  I headed toward where the patch of green had been on the map, as it was only a little out of the way. Easy enough to swing out and loop back toward home. Twenty minutes later, I found it––more of a vacant lot than a park––sandwiched between a row of townhouses, a playground at the back, and the post office.

  “Here goes nothing.” I squatted and clawed out a nice chunk of dirt. “Show me the old jail on the night Daracha got out.”

  A grainy black and white image flickered to life, overlaying the view of the playground. I could barely make out the shapes of the swing set and monkey bars through the residual of the ugly stone building. It sat there like a toad, with bars on its narrow windows and a doorway I’d have to duck to enter. Definitely a medieval prison.

  Two men stood at the entrance where the low wooden door stood ajar. Blackness yawned from within. The men were having a conversation I couldn’t hear. One of them wore a tunic with the hood dropped back. A rudimentary belt around his waist held a ring of keys. So the jailer, then. When I looked closely at the grainy image of the other man, I gave a start of recognition. He’d been the man who’d pushed the wheelbarrow.

  The men made an exchange. A blurry lump passed from the wheelbarrow pusher into the jailer’s hand, and something small enough to hide in the jailer’s hand was passed back.

  The jailer put his back to the wall and the other fellow slipped inside the building. For a while, nothing happened. The jailer leaned against the stone wall and waited.

  After several minutes passed, the other man emerged carrying the limp body of a woman. There were stains on the light-colored fabric. So she’d already been unconscious before she’d left the jail, or dead; there was nothing to distinguish the two, other than I thought I could see the woman’s bosom rise and fall, but the images were unclear so I couldn’t say for sure. I squinted, trying to make out more details. I caught dark marks on the woman’s neck as the man shifted her weight in his arms. Bruises?

  Strangulation had been one of the causes of death the mortician had listed. I gave a shiver and shifted under my coat, trying to warm up.

  I took a surprised leap backward when a wagon came trundling onto the scene, driven by the same woman I’d seen in the first residual. I recognized her easily from the way her shawl was tied. The wagon was pulled by a donkey, and a wheelbarrow tipped on its side lay in the cart.

  The men exchanged words I couldn’t hear. The body of the woman––I couldn’t help but think of her as Daracha by now––was unceremoniously dumped into the back of the wagon before the man climbed up onto the rickety seat and took the reins. A moment later and they disappeared into the shadows.

  The scene flickered and winked out before winking back to the beginning with the two men standing at the door in conversation.

  I dropped the earth, knowing what happened next.

  As I made my way back to the castle, I barely noticed my surroundings. My mind was busy processing what I’d seen. So the jailer was part of the conspiracy. He’d probably been bought off, and since the woman was a supposed witch, he could claim she’d either bewitched him or she’d magicked her way out of the cell. Whatever embarrassment or humiliation he’d had to endure as a result of failing at his job would have been offset by whatever the man had given him, probably money.

  But what about Daracha? Had the man killed her in the jail? If he had, why bother going to all the trouble of taking the body up the site of Blackmouth Castle and walling her up? Why not just leave her corpse for the law to deal with, or bury her in an unmarked grave? It was weird. I now understood what had happened, but not why.

  I remembered Lachlan talking about Daracha Guthrie, and how the name was from farther south and that women didn’t have much cause to travel in those days. So what had she been doing up here?

  I was nearly home and felt bone-weary. Making my way to the side entrance, I deposited my boots and jacket in the closet and headed up the stairs toward my bedroom. Halfway down the hall, I heard a creak and stopped, listening.

  After having spent several hours every day doing my schoolwork in the front parlor which overlooked the driveway, I recognized the sounds of its floor boards. Someone was in there. I passed my room and Jasher’s room and poked my head into the large sitting room.

  The dark silhouette of a man pacing across the room crossed one of the windows.

  “Jasher?”

  He had his head down and was rubbing both of his hands along the sides of his face in agitation. He looked up.

  “Georjie!” He crossed to me immediately and pulled me into a hug. “I’ve been waiting for you to get home. Is everything okay?”

  I heard his heart pounding beneath his chest.

  “Everything is fine with me. What about you?”

  He pulled me into the parlor and had me sit on one of the sofas beside him. His face was a visage full of shifting shadows.

  “I came from the clinic. Visiting hours are over at nine. I was looking for you and calling you.”

  “I forgot my cell phone. I went to see Lachlan. Why?”

  He took one of my hands between both of his own, like a sandwich, and pressed on it. “It’s Evelyn. She’s weaker, Georjie.”

  My heart dropped into my stomach and I closed my eyes.

  “You have to help her, Georjie,” Jasher pleaded, giving my hand a little shake.

  “I tried to rouse her when I found her, but she didn’t wake up.”

  “You said her heartbeat seemed stronger,” he said in a rush, “and that some color returned to her cheeks.”

  “Yeah, she did seem a little better. But she never opened her eyes, never responded.”

  “Please try again. Whatever is wrong with her, it’s not normal
.”

  “By not normal, you mean it’s supernatural.”

  Jasher nodded vigorously. “Exactly. The doctors don’t know what to do. They’re making phone calls and adjusting her IV, but they’re clueless. Worse than that, they’re scared. I can see it in their eyes.” He released my hand and raked through his hair again.

  “I’m sorry, Jash.”

  “I’m more sorry for her poor parents.” He turned to face me again in the dark and it seemed his eyes were vast misty orbs of terror. “What if she dies?”

  “She won’t die.” My voice was full of confidence, but how was I supposed to know what was going to happen?

  Jasher took my other hand and began to speak again but stopped. He lifted my hand and peered at it. “Why are you so dirty?” He looked up, hopeful. “Did you see something new?”

  I let out a long sigh. “Not really. I mean, I have one more piece of the puzzle, but no real answers.”

  “Tell me. Everything that’s happening is connected.” Hope was rising on his face like the first touch of dawn’s light. “It has to do with that bloody shadow-man. I know it.”

  “Maybe, but he wasn’t in the residual I saw tonight.” I told Jasher what I’d seen and he listened without interrupting me. After I finished, the night’s silence filled the parlor until Jasher spoke again.

  “Still doesn’t make much sense. Why would they bother walling her up?”

  I stifled a yawn. “I don’t know Jash, but I’m exhausted. Can we talk about this more in the morning?”

  “Will you go to the clinic first thing? Visiting hours start at eight. I have to work, but you could go and check in on her? Try to help her again?” The hope on Jasher’s face was like small blades slicing across my heart.

  “Of course I will, Jasher.”

  Jasher let out a sigh and got to his feet. “Good,” he whispered as we went through the door and into the hallway. “Because I think you might be the only one who can solve this, Georjie.” He faced me in the dark and put a hand on my cheek. “You’re a Wise. If you can’t help her, no one can.”

  There it was again.

  We said goodnight and Jasher slipped into his bedroom. The door closed with a light snick. I stood in the hall for a moment before heading to my own room. I could almost feel the weight of expectation and hope laying its dead weight over my shoulders. Jasher’s words echoed in my mind as I got ready for bed and slipped beneath the coverlet.

  If you can’t help her, no one can.

  I fell into a fitful sleep with those words repeating themselves over and over in my mind, echoing off the walls of my skull and filling all my empty spaces.

  I arrived at the clinic shortly after breakfast and checked in at reception. The same woman who had been working the night I’d been interrogated in the waiting room was behind the desk.

  “I don’t suppose you can update me on Evelyn’s condition?” I asked.

  “No change, as you’ll see for yourself.”

  I sighed and handed her clipboard back. “I was afraid of that. They wouldn’t consider moving her to a larger center, would they? A facility with more doctors experienced with comas?” I was merely fishing with this question. I didn’t want to show up for visiting hours one day (and maybe with some new idea of how to help Evelyn) only to find out they’d moved her to Inverness or Edinburgh.

  “That’s her parents’ call,” the receptionist answered, “and they want to keep their daughter close. There isn’t anything a larger facility can do for her that we can’t do here. She’s sleeping, not cancerous or in need of some risky and complicated surgical procedure.”

  “And you’ve never seen a case like this one before?”

  “I’ve seen comas before, if that’s what you mean, but usually they’re the result of head trauma or a stroke or an infection in the brain. But Evelyn hasn’t suffered any of that.” Her look grew sly. “If anyone might be able to shed more light on what might have happened to her, it would be you, Miss Sutherland. You’re the one who found her.”

  Eurgh. It was like a broken record. “She was asleep when I found her,” I replied, fighting to keep the irritation out of my voice, “in the same state she’s in now.”

  The receptionist shrugged. “In a grave hole, though. Why do you think that is?”

  “I have no idea.”

  The receptionist nodded, but her look was calculating. “Well, at least she’s got plenty of friends. No one else in this clinic gets visitors as frequently as she does. Go on back, she hasn’t moved.”

  “Thanks.” I made my way through the open double doors and took the first left, and then a right. Evelyn’s room was at the end of a long hallway and positioned near a set of emergency doors leading to the back parking lot. Being on a dead end meant her room was quiet and didn’t see much traffic.

  Several people had left bouquets for her. A vase on her bedside table held a spray of daisies and sunflowers, while a glass bowl on the dresser underneath the wall-mounted television held a profusion of white and pale green roses. The room smelled like summer.

  “Hi, Evie.” I shed my hat and jacket, draping them over the seat near the door. Walking around her bed, I sat in a chair that looked like it had been part of the hospital fixtures since the forties.

  Evelyn lay with her hands folded on her stomach. Her right arm had a shunt with an IV drip attached. Her dark curly hair splayed out on the white pillowcase and her skin was only a shade darker than the sheets. She looked thinner. I watched her chest rise and fall, noting her shallow breathing. Putting two fingers inside her wrist to feel for her pulse had me closing my eyes in dread. Jasher was right. She was getting weaker.

  “I don’t suppose you might feel like waking up and having a conversation with me today, would you?” I took one of her hands and gently massaged the palm. “There are a lot of people worried about you, Evie. I know your parents are here every day, beside themselves with worry. And I hear Jasher’s been reading to you. I hope…” My voice cracked as I fought back tears. “I hope you know that he loves you.”

  I hung my head for a while, feeling her faint pulse and listening to her breath.

  I reached for a tissue and dabbed at my eyes. “Listen, uh, I have some abilities…you could call them gifts, I guess. I’ve been able to help a few people to heal faster in the past, and while I did try to help you when I first found you, you still didn’t wake up. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m going to try again. If you can hear me or feel my intentions, I want you to do your best to wake up. Okay? Work with me, Evie.”

  I felt stupid talking out loud like this, but what if she could hear me? What if, inside that peacefully sleeping exterior, she was screaming, struggling to wake up?

  I closed my eyes and let my focus drift inside and then down, down, down, through the concrete layers beneath my feet and into the layers of earth and soil underneath that. Slowing my breathing, I called on all of the healing qualities I could find, drawing the positive energy through my own body and into Evelyn. It was like sucking something too thick through a straw, but the energy did flow, I could feel it warming my limbs and strengthening my resolve.

  Wake up, Evie, I thought. Please, wake up. Come back to us.

  Evelyn’s skin warmed beneath my touch. Her breathing deepened.

  Not breaking our connection, I opened my eyes and was pleased to see a flush of color in her cheeks, her lips pinked up, even her hair seemed to thicken and grow a little.

  “Evelyn?”

  My eyes were glued to those dark lashes against that pale skin, willing them to flutter open, willing for her to animate, to look over at me and smile.

  Nothing.

  I released the flow of energy moving through me and let out a long sigh.

  “What a happy coincidence,” said a male voice from the doorway.

  I looked up. “Lachlan! Hey.”

  He came into the room and took the chair on the other side of Evie’s bed. “Any better? She’s got some color in her cheeks today.�
�� His gaze skimmed Evelyn’s still form. “Looks thinner though.”

  “Yeah. No change, I’m afraid. Unless it’s to lose more weight.”

  Lachlan took Evie’s other hand and let out a long breath. “I’ve known her since we were babies. She feels so close, yet so far away.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. This must be hell for you.”

  He nodded, his eyes misting. “Worse for her parents though. Her mom sits with her every day, her dad plays guitar for her. They’re hoping that familiar things will help her get better.”

  I nodded. “Sure can’t hurt.”

  Lachlan reached across Evelyn’s body and took my hand. The three of us were connected now, a little ring of hope. “What happened that night, Georjie?” His voice was low, quiet. “You can tell me.”

  “I told your dad everything already, Lachlan.” I held his gaze, not flinching as he probed for…whatever he was looking for. “Why? What do you think happened?”

  Lachlan’s gaze flickered with something. Suspicion? Curiosity? “I don’t know, I just think something really strange is happening and it all started with that body we found.” He counted off events on his fingers. “First, the body. Then the night the dogs went crazy, which was the night before the day we realized Evelyn went missing. Now, the body’s actually been taken from the morgue. Did you know that?”

  I nodded. “Your dad told me.”

  “Really?” He recoiled in surprise. “When did you see my dad?”

  I really didn’t want to have to feed Lachlan the same lies I’d told his father. “It doesn’t matter, Lachlan,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I just know, and I agree with you. It is weird.”

  He didn’t even know the half of it. Only Jasher and I knew about the eldritch thing. Oh, and Laec, for all the help he was being.

  Lachlan gave me a small smile, his cheek dimpled, and my secrets almost burst out of me. “Sure. We don’t have to talk about it.”

  We sat quietly together in our thoughts until Lachlan broke the silence again with, “You coming to the bonfire tonight?”