This Strange Witchery

by Michele Hauf

  Tor hefted an altered rifle over one shoulder, having explained to her that it shot salt rounds, regular bullets (silver encased) and even flames. In his other hand, he wielded the machete. At his hip he wore a belt with knives and other weapons attached to it. The crystal talisman caught the moonlight. He looked like a warrior—in a three-piece suit. He’d removed the coat, and the tweed vest was dark gray. His red tie was neat, and his shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows. He looked all business.

  If a man’s business were kick-assery.

  Which it was.

  Mel felt his intensity as a visceral warmth in her muscles. Something about a man in a suit ready for battle really did it for her. But now? Whew! If she wasn’t preparing to raise the dead, she’d go after that sexy man and have her way with him.

  With luck, all would go well and they could head home early and spend the rest of the night making love.

  After pacing two full turns and scanning the area, Tor gestured for her to approach the center point where the barely used road formed a cross of grassy tufts between the tire ruts.

  “You ready for this?” he asked.

  Never! “Yes. I can do this. You think we’re safe?”

  “No. But I’ll make sure nothing approaches while you invoke the spell. What’s just beyond that forest?”

  “It’s an old family graveyard—oh.”

  Both met each other’s gaze with the intense knowing that caused a sinking feeling in their guts.

  “Really?” Tor asked, with all the frustration of the past few days punctuating that one word. “A graveyard. Bloody perfect.”

  Just the right breeding ground for more zombies. Bloody perfect, indeed. Not.

  “Will you make it snappy?” he asked.

  “I will work as speedily as the threat of a zombie invasion will allow.”

  “You going to lay down a protection circle?”

  “Yes, I’ll get that ready and I’ll ward it so you, and nothing else, will be able to enter it while I’m invoking the spell.”

  “Good. Make it ironclad. I’m going to wander toward the graveyard to check out that potential nightmare. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you in my eyesight.”

  “I’m not worried,” she lied. “You’ll have my back. It’s what you do best.”

  “For another few hours, anyway,” he muttered.

  Right. And then he’d drink a memory-loss spell and walk away from her forever.

  “I’m going to take this off.” He unhooked the talisman from his belt and handed it to her. “Best I see whatever comes our way.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. Just because I can’t see the danger doesn’t mean it’s not there. It’s about time I faced up to that which most disturbs me. I’ll never be able to begin a new life if I don’t do that.”

  He had gotten wise about that. Unfortunately. Mel tucked the talisman into her skirt pocket, and before she could argue, Tor turned and wandered off.

  She wished he would have kissed her before striding away. Standing beneath the moonlight at the center of the crossroads, she suddenly felt so alone. A thin cloud crept across the moon’s crimson face. Crickets chirped in the long grass, but she sensed no other animals nearby, not even a squirrel or bird. Tor’s footsteps shushed through the grass, but he was already out of sight, for the trees shadowed his position.

  Midnight would toll in ten minutes. Mel set down her tapestry bag and knelt by it. She had a lot of work to do. First she took out the crystal tiara and placed that on her head. Inhaling and exhaling, she centered herself and cast a thin violet light around her. Nothing too strong. She would need access beyond her physical body.

  Next she poured the salt circle about ten feet in diameter. It would provide enough space to work, and...for two people to stand in. As she finished the circle, she said a blessing, then closed her eyes to invoke the protection wards and seal herself inside. Spreading out her arms and tilting back her head, she whispered to the universe to hear her summons and join in her magic this night. It may be dark magic, but she honored all kinds and respected the elements required to make this work.

  “And ye harm none; do as thou wilt” was the witch’s rede that she respected. Even dark witches.

  As she closed the circle, the moonlight seemed to swell and beam down upon her. Everything felt electric, from the air brushing her cheeks and hands to the glitter of moonshine on the grass blades. Mel glanced about to spy Tor walking around the circle thirty paces away, gun over his shoulder, machete swinging in the other hand, alert. When his eyes met hers, he nodded, then gifted her with a dimpled smile.

  She had fallen in love with that man. And he had confessed the same to her. But would tonight’s events make her lesser in his eyes? The nature of his job required him to do many evil things. Or if not necessarily evil, then bad things that needed to be done to protect the greater good. Vampires had to be slain if they proved harmful to innocents. Same with werewolves, and others. Evil was all in the perspective. So was bad. And dark. Someone had to partake of it.

  As she would do now.

  Pulling her supplies out of the bag, she set them on the grass. A crystal athame given to her by her father, carved from smoky quartz, had darkened over the years as he had used it in his own magic. She could feel the immense power within it, and had rarely used it herself, for it was dedicated to the dark arts. Beside that she set vials of rosemary, sage and hyssop. Red salt and a black candle. A cloth bag of tiny bones from various animals such as mouse, frog and rat. She’d left Bruce home tonight because she hadn’t wanted to risk his life. There was no telling what would occur within this circle. She would invoke a willing elemental to use as a familiar for this spell.

  And finally, she drew out the plastic container within which the heart pulsed. It cast a red glow from inside the blurry plastic. Mel peeled back the cover and the thing thumped as if it were inside someone’s chest. Hecate, the goddess of magic and witchcraft. And necromancy. How appropriate that her heart was required for this spell.

  “I honor you, Great Mother,” Mel said as she placed the heart on the grass before her. It continued to beat and grew redder and glowed brighter. After arranging the rest of the items and then lighting the candle with a snap of her fingers, Mel had it all ready to go.

  A tug to her dress smoothed out the skirt around her legs. A sweep of her hand brushed the hair from her face. And she felt the clock tick into the witch’s hour as a tightening in her muscles and a knowing in her soul.

  “All’s clear!” Tor called. “Weirdly.”

  Yes, that was weird. But she wouldn’t question a good thing. Everything could change on the turn of a thin gold euro.

  Adjusting the crystal tiara on her head, Mel then began the spell with a whisper. She’d memorized the incantation. It was simple. Slowly she found a rhythm. The words were few and Latin, and must be repeated over and over until she reached a crescendo and a beat that thundered in her ears.

  Gripping the crystal athame, she stood over the candle and drew the blade across her palm to drip her blood to mingle into the wax. Tilting back her head, she called up the elements of earth and fire to assist her this night of a dark summoning.

  * * *

  Tor altered his attention between the vast darkness that surrounded their little circle in the middle of nowhere, and the center stage where the witch with whom he had become enamored was enacting a vile and repulsive spell. Hecate’s heart glowed like a beacon. He thought, if any paranormal creatures could not hear the witch’s chants, then surely they would be alerted by that glowing organ.

  To think about witches and all the crazy things they used in their spells would make him question his sanity for engaging in such an alliance. So he didn’t. Instead he kept one ear cocked for movement in the darkness. One finger on the trigger. And one eye on the beautiful witch in the breathtaking red gown.


  Her chants mesmerized. Her body swayed as if with the wind. She created a dance to the sounds of her incantation; her jet hair fluttered in waves about her shoulders and elbows. The athame she waved through the air traced a red line of light that lingered long after. She drew sigils that he did not recognize, but could feel in his soul. For they made him uncomfortable and his mouth dry.

  Pausing in his pacing, Tor witnessed the sudden burst of grass being mown flat in the circle center and radiating out up to his feet. Mel stepped aside, nudging the heart over with a toe. The candle flames burst to a length nearly as high as Mel’s hip. And with a slash of her athame over the newly broken ground, a hand burst free from beneath.

  Tor heard a growl from the darkness behind him. He spun around to face glowing red eyes.

  “Bring it,” he muttered.

  Chapter 24

  Aware that Tor had fired at something in the dark, Mel did not take her eyes from the woman who had clawed her way up from the earth to stand before her. Blonde, slender and dressed in her ragged black burial dress, Amaranthe shook off the dirt from her arms and hair. She was Mel’s younger sister by eleven months. Looked exactly like her, save for the hair she’d consistently bleached since her teenage years.

  Pale dead skin gleamed like moonstone under the blood moon. Even the dirt smudges and bruises discoloring her arms and neck could not alter her beauty. She embodied a tattered glamour. Or, as her father might say, a glamorous evil. Mel’s eyes dropped lower. Her sister’s hip bone poked out through skin and torn silk fabric.

  When she finally looked at Mel, Amaranthe’s blue eyes brightened momentarily with recognition. And then she snarled. “What have you done to me?”

  In the distance, a creature yowled. Tor’s gun echoed a few shots. And—was he whistling Sinatra?

  Of course he was.

  Mel clutched the glowing athame to her chest. “Amaranthe, I love you.”

  “Love me? You—you’ve raised me from the grave! How dare you? Is this the vile punishment you wish to bestow upon me?”

  “For tormenting Mom? I should,” Mel said defensively. Then she deflected her sudden anger. She’d not come here for a fight. “But I am not so cruel as death has made you.”

  Amaranthe tilted her head to the side and her neck cracked, leaving it at an unnatural tilt. “Star killed me. And now she will suffer.”

  “Mom did no such thing. And you know it! She was being chased by that nasty dog from Apartment B on the ground floor. You know how frightened she was of that big ugly beast. She had no idea you were driving down the street.”

  “Yes, well, I was driving, wasn’t I? I was so angry at him!”

  Mel swallowed. The reason her sister had left in a huff that evening was to go to her boyfriend’s house and ask him if what her family had told her was true. Amaranthe’s boyfriend had made a pass at Mel. And when Star had tried to convince Amaranthe that the fledging wizard was no good for her, she’d accused them both of lying to her.

  “It was my fault,” Mel said. “I never should have told Mom what he did. But he creeped me out. He suggested...things.”

  Amaranthe snapped up her head and looked down her nose at Mel. “It was true. That bastard had a roving eye for other women. But that doesn’t change the fact that I am no longer alive, and it was because of my mother. I can still feel the moment of impact. The metal slicing through my skin and bone. Tore my leg clean off.” She slapped her exposed hip bone, and her entire body wobbled as that joint threatened to give free and collapse her. “Damn it! Curse you, witch! I will rip out your heart if you do not restore me to the grave in which you laid me.”

  “In due time,” Mel said as calmly as she could manage.

  Her sister was a mess. And truly, she was torturing her by allowing her to exist in such a state. She felt the energy within the circle cringe and quickly redrew the warding sigil in the air. It lingered near Amaranthe’s head in a brownish-red light that mimicked the moon’s shadowed glow.

  “Protection from what?” her sister asked with a sneer at the glowing sigil. “The idiot over there shooting at anything that moves?”

  “Tor is protecting me while I perform this spell. It is to put you to rest peacefully, Amaranthe. And to save Mom. She has only one life remaining!”

  “I know that. And she is so frightened of my incorporeal spirit. It is comical how easily I can get that feline to shiver.”

  Mel lifted a hand, prepared to slap her sister, but she refrained.

  “Don’t want to slap my head clean off?” Amaranthe retorted. “Considerate of you. What are you doing? Practicing dark magic now? Who do you think you are? I was the one following in Dad’s footsteps. You and your silly light magic should know your place.”

  “Seowen,” Mel recited.

  Red thread sewed shut Amaranthe’s mouth.

  Mel bit the corner of her lip. She must hurry, or she would faint from utter horror. Indeed, the dark arts were not to her taste.

  “Forgive Mom,” she commanded. “Admit you loved her when you were alive. She is your mother. You are her daughter. Give her freedom. That woman would never harm a soul. She chases mice and then lets them flee. She loves you so much, Amaranthe.”

  Her sister scratched away the threads closing her mouth. “She doesn’t even remember me. Or you!”

  “She does. Dad teaches her and she remembers. I know she does. It is innate in us all to know our family and those whom we love. Please, Amaranthe, I love you. And I forgive you for scaring Mom off the rooftop.”

  Amaranthe’s switchblade smile cracked her mouth open a little too high on one side.

  Tor backed toward the circle, gun in hand and a stake in the other. “Almost done?”

  Amaranthe turned and looked over him. “You again? I can show you things that’ll make your stomach turn—”

  Tor stopped and looked down. His shoes almost touched the salt. He shuffled backward.

  “It should have been me!” Mel suddenly said.

  Amaranthe spun to face Mel. “What did you say?”

  “I should have been in the car that day,” Mel said. “I know it. You know it. Your beef is with me, not Mom. I should have driven to Jacques’s house and told him to leave us both alone. I should have protected you. My little sister.”

  Amaranthe straightened her neck with difficulty and lifted her chin. “You always did that. Put an arm around me, step in front of me when the bullies showed their might. Jacques was using me. Oh! He confessed it all when I went to him that night. Wanted to blood bond with me to gain my dark magic. He said he’d tried to take some of yours.”

  “I know that,” Mel said quietly. She hadn’t intended to tell her sister that. Jacques had chased her and attempted a binding spell on her. She’d only wanted Amaranthe to leave the man, not hate her for his wayward attentions.

  “I was so angry,” Amaranthe said. “Driving home in such a fit...without paying attention. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about him right away.” Amaranthe bowed her head. “We always trusted one another. It’s what sisters do.”

  “Then do one last thing for me,” Mel said. “Forgive Mom and set her free. And then I will help you to rest peacefully.”

  The candles flickered. A cricket chirped somewhere nearby. Yet the air was heavy, as if a storm could crack open the sky at any moment. And over it all, the red moon was witness.

  “I miss you,” Amaranthe said. “And Dad and Laith and Vlas. We had such fun times with our cousins. And... Mom,” she breathed out on a whisper.

  “I think of you every day,” Mel said. “You are always in my heart. And here.” She splayed open her hand.

  Amaranthe did the same to reveal the matching scar on her palm. Then she glanced to the glowing heart on the ground. Behind them, Tor spun and rushed to fire at another approaching predator.

  “Is that Hecate’s heart?”
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  “It is,” Mel offered.

  “How did you get that?”

  “I stole it from the Archives when Uncle CJ wasn’t looking. He’s quite angry with me.”

  “You try so hard to be bad, Lissa. You’ll never be a dark witch. You couldn’t have made a sacrifice.”

  “I did.” Mel held up her head, trying desperately not to sink into a flood of tears. She’d done what had to be done. “I can invoke dark magic,” Mel said, “if it means enough to me. Like you. You mean the world to me, Amaranthe. I wish you were still alive so I could hug you.”

  Again, Amaranthe glanced behind her to Tor. When she turned to Mel, the look on her face was unreadable.

  Her sister nodded over her shoulder. “He calls you Mel?”

  “Yes, and I like it. I like him. I might even love him. I never thought a person could fall in love so fast, but it feels real.”

  “You never dated that often, but when you did, it was with your whole heart. He will hurt your heart, Lissa. Mel.”

  “That man is incapable of doing such a thing.” Unless, of course, he intended to walk into normal the moment they’d finished here. “Tor is a real hero.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. You need to know what he is made of before you lose your heart to him.”

  “He’s trustworthy and brave. What more is there to know?”

  “He has a secret.”

  “I know about the woman who killed herself.”

  “All of it?”

  What was she up to?

  “Oh, sister.” Amaranthe bowed her head on her crooked neck. “I’m tired. I do want to rest. To move on.”