Bewitching Fire

by Sheritta Bitikofer

  Krystal went silent as they continued to speculate what could have been taking place. Was this another one of Father Frank’s mercy missions, like with Elizabeth Thatchman? She never found out how their talk went at the festival the other day, and unless she asked Father Frank, she’d probably never know.

  Her heart truly ached for Elizabeth. She hadn’t told anyone that she was the murder victim from the night before. It wasn’t her place to tell them. It would be in the newspapers the following day and with it, she hoped there would be the good news that Devin had already caught the culprit.

  She hadn’t heard a word from Devin all day. That could mean two things. He was either hot on the trail of the killer and far too busy to bother with her. Or he was giving her the time and space she had requested of him. That was a good thing, because if he stopped by the house, thinking he could catch her alone, he would be vastly mistaken. The last thing she needed was him trying to walk in on a witch gathering like this one.

  When they had five complete rings of candles, they finally stopped. Krystal rearranged her long skirt, so it wouldn’t get close to the candles, and tucked her legs beneath her.

  “All right, ladies,” her mother began. “I want you to all sit around the circle.”

  The five other witches did so, along with Catherine. Krystal took deep breaths to calm her nerves, though she had a feeling that this ritual would require her to get a little excited. The heat didn’t engulf her when she was calm, after all.

  Catherine flicked her hand toward the switch on the wall and the lights went out in the living room. By the light in the foyer, she saw her mother grab for a box of matches and she struck one.

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  Krystal nodded, even though it was a lie. She feared this power more than she would let anyone else believe. She might not have truly claimed herself as a daughter of Gaia, tethered to the gods and goddesses of the wiccan religion, but she did value all life and nature. Fire, though it was associated with the sun, which shined light upon the world to give it life, was destructive. She never wanted to be linked with something that could kill. She wanted control, stability. Fire was anything but that.

  Perhaps she was already setting herself up for failure, thinking that fire was evil or something that would need to be extinguished instead of harnessed. Without fire, after all, the human race wouldn’t have all of the technological marvels that they did today. But, in the end, what use would a witch have for fire?

  She watched the dancing flame at the end of the match as her mother lowered it to the first wick of the candle immediately in front of Krystal. The white, unblemished wick adopted the fire from the match and darkened as the flame consumed it, burning bright.

  Her mother lit the two other candles on either side of the first. Krystal’s heart pounded in her throat as she looked around to the other, unlit candles of various sizes and wax colors. Somehow, she couldn’t help but think that they should have kept a bucket of water nearby in case this got out of hand.

  “Krystal,” her mother began in a soft voice, “I want you to focus on these three flames. They are the Goddess Trinity. Feel their energy. Feel their spirit. Feel the life within the fire and let it become your own.”

  Just like her mother said, she focused on those three, slowly undulating flames in front of her. She stared at them until her eyes burned from the intensity of their light and heat. She glanced up to her mother, who held the smoking match between her fingers.

  “Nothing’s happening. Am I supposed to do something?” Krystal asked.

  Her mother sighed. “Whenever you felt that heat, you said that it was during moments of high emotion, right? Bring back one of those instances. Replay it in your mind.”

  “If I do that, the flames might get bigger.”

  Catherine smiled. “That’s exactly what we want. You can’t be challenged unless you increase the

  risk.”

  Krystal could feel her fingers shake in her lap. She didn’t want to do this. If it were possible, she felt more scared than she had been when Devin took her out on the boat. At least then, she could lean on him for strength. Here, he was the reason her powers raged out of control. He couldn’t help her. Or could he?

  She closed her eyes and brought back the memory of every kiss, every touch and smile he ever blessed her with. The thought of last night resurfaced and the warmth plumed within her chest, spreading through her limbs and core.

  All at once, she could feel that energy her mother spoke of. She could feel the swaying and jerky movement of the candle flames in front of her as if it were a physical entity moving in that space. It drew upon her life source just as she fed upon it in turn. She and the fire became one, sharing the energy between them. The heat exponentially grew, just like it did when Devin’s kisses graced the sensitive skin along her neck and chest.

  Her body responded to her thoughts and she could feel her nipples press against her bra, peaking just as they had when Devin was there with her, touching her, caressing her body with such need. Her lips parted as her imagination exploded with all the things that Devin could do to her until it felt as if her skin were set ablaze.

  She opened her eyes and saw the three flames were level with her, so skinny and erect. Hot wax dropped down the sides of the candles.

  “Oh, shit,” she whispered, her breath teasing the flames. Her heart pounded out of her chest, searing her bones with the heat that had spread through every organ in her body. Soon, her blood would be set on fire and she didn’t know how to come down from that high.

  “No, no,” her mother insisted as she watched the three straight flames with a smile. “This is good. Extend your hand and make the flames jump.”

  “What?”

  “Spread the fire. Bend it to your will and light the other candles.”

  Krystal lifted her trembling hand and held it in front of the flames as if to shield herself from its power.

  “No, not like that. Hand open. Like this.” Her mother showed her palms facing upward and Krystal obeyed, mimicking the way her two hands were lifted in a receiving way.

  She inhaled and let it out slowly, letting some of her magic leak through to aid her. The three flames shivered, just as her hands did. With a flick of her finger, part of the right flame sputtered. She tried again, and it did the same, but it wasn’t moving as she intended.

  Krystal felt the toxic swirl of impatience meld in her chest, adding to the heat. She flicked her fingers one more time. It was as if the flame were cut in half and the second half fell straight into the unlit candle beside it. It caught fire and now, there were four spindly towers of fire in front of her.

  She actually did it. Upon the encouragement of the other witches, she did it again and again. Soon, almost half of the candles were lit, and the living room was bathed in the flickering amber light from the fire she was able to control.

  All the while, she kept Devin alive in her mind, shirtless and glistening with sweat as they were surrounded by the fire that was hers to tame. She imagined him on top of her, his arms encasing her and holding her naked body beneath his. In her fantasy, he kissed her, suckled her breasts, teased the folds between her legs and finally thrust into her.

  Krystal felt the heat pierce through her core and she gasped as the energy around her surged. When she opened her eyes, she could see the flames had merged together, creating something like a wall that separated her from her friends and family.

  Sweat beaded and trickled down her temples and along the slender curve of her neck, but it only added to the thrill of having such power. Every candle was lit across all five rows, every drop of blood coursing through her veins like liquid fire. Her imagination took her places she had never dreamed of going, soaring higher until the tips of the flames reached over her head.

  It felt so good she never wanted it to end.

  But it had to. Reality came crashing through as she realized what was happening. They disabled the smoke alarms as soon as they got ho
me, but the danger was still near. If she allowed herself that release, that one last burst of pleasure inspired by her imagination alone, someone was going to get hurt. She couldn’t even see the faces of her mother or sister through the wall of fire.

  She took a shaky breath and let Devin fade from her mind. Her heartrate slowed as she pushed back the images of the fantasy that she hoped one day would become real. Krystal turned her hands until her palms were facing down and the flames lowered once more.

  She didn’t stop fighting the passion until she could see the eyes of her mother, watching her with such calm, as if she had every confidence that her daughter would conquer this lesson. Her friends, not so much. A few of them had scooted backward and through the pandemonium, Amber had brought a popcorn bowl brimming with water. As if that would do anything.

  The wall of fire became individual candle flames once more and though the energy in her spirit didn’t ebb away as easily, the fire was still under her command. Her bangs stuck to her damp forehead and she thought steam was rolling off her exposed arms as her own sweat evaporated. Her clothes clung to her. The place between her legs was especially wet, but not with sweat.

  She smiled as she and her mother looked to one another.

  “You did it,” she said, her words a little choked with pride.

  Krystal felt relief wash over her. Quite literally, she had been put through the fire and came out unscathed. It would be a long time before she could really control her dark magic, but this was the first step to dominating all she was expected to as a witch. Once her dark magic was under control, nothing was out of reach.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was a long shot, but Krystal crossed her fingers that Devin would not come into the coffee shop that day. It had nothing to do with her dark magic or the idea that she didn’t want to see him. Nothing could be farther from the truth. After last night, when she learned the key to controlling her powers was to simply control her own passion, she knew she could handle being in Devin’s company. She would have to keep a tighter rein on her emotions. If things got out of hand, all she needed to do was stop and take a breath. It was simple enough and she wanted to get the practice in with the stimulus for her dark magic. So she was eager to see Devin again. But, she wasn’t going to rush things.

  They had worked through most of the night and evening, working on raising and lowering the flames of the candles until everyone else was ready to step outside in the cold night air for a breather. Even her mother was a bit worn out after they had been at it for hours. Krystal, on the other hand, continued to feed off the fire and she wasn’t the least bit tired. If anything, she was more keyed up than ever. The kind of rousing energy the fire gave was better than any caffeinated drink she would ever drink.

  No, that’s not the reason why she didn’t want him to make that little brass bell over the door jingle to life. It had everything to do with the fact that she was wearing a skin-tight green jumper wrapped in fake vines and a red wig.

  Every year, the three girls played along with the added traditions of Samhain, also known as Halloween. They put out a big bowl of candy for the customers and dressed up in the costume of their choice.

  Alexa paraded as a fairy in her glittery top with long bell-sleeves and tulle skirt with leotards, Valerie simply racketed up her usual attire by wearing every piece of studded jewelry in her possession and smearing on black lipstick, while Krystal decided to dress as Poison Ivy from the comic books.

  The comic book villain had actually inspired her love for plant life more than her family’s obsession with nature because of their magic. So, every year Krystal pulled out the green wig. Of course, she kept the outfit relatively modest for the sake of her professional appearance at Perfect Books and Brews. She didn’t want Devin to see her in case he got a little too excited over the way the thin material hugged her frame. It would have been the first time he had ever seen her in anything but a skirt or dress.

  Thankfully, the two cops hadn’t come in yet for their coffee. In fact, hardly anyone came in. Their usual customers, who admitted they could never go a day without coffee, stopped by rather quickly to grab their usual and go. They didn’t even stay for a while and chat like they usually did.

  When Krystal finally got up the nerve to ask if something was going on, Mr. Thompson told her that the newspapers finally released the story about Elizabeth Thatchman’s murder.

  “Officer Daniels and Officer Wright have been looking for the murderer, but the article said they don’t have any conclusive leads yet,” Mrs. Thompson added.

  She had been afraid of that. Perhaps that was why Devin and Aaron hadn’t come in yet.

  Behind her, Alexa and Valerie abandoned their machines and asked for more details. This was the first time they had heard about who the murder victim was, but this was her first time hearing about the nature of the murder. Devin said nothing about Elizabeth being carved open or where exactly her body had been dumped.

  There was no way she would ever see Jackson Creek Road the same way again, and surely the rest of the town wouldn’t either. Once the kids learned about the murder, their parents would probably forbid them to go to Jackson Creek. They would go anyway, of course, and within a few years there would be ghost stories told about the spot where they found Elizabeth Thatchman’s body. Friends would dare one another to spend the night in the woods along Jackson Creek Road as a rite of passage and Krystal ruefully shook her head at the concept.

  As long as the police department was without a lead to go on, it was unlikely that many people would be out on the town as much as they once were. There was a murderer loose, after all. And even though the murder happened in the evening, some people wouldn’t see it that way and they’d shell up in their homes until the perp was caught. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson even admitted that they wouldn't be leaving their home after the sun went down.

  That meant two things for Krystal. Business was not going to be as steady for a while and Devin would be busy. A lot.

  Alexa and Valerie talked about the incident, while Krystal simply listened. They weren’t getting as hysterical as some would, but they were just as stunned as she was.

  When Aaron finally came in after the Thompsons left, she expected to see Devin waltzing in with him, looking deadbeat tired like he had the morning before. Devin wasn’t with him, and it was Aaron who looked exhausted this time.

  “Where’s Devin?” Krystal asked hastily as he came up to the front counter.

  “Good morning to you too,” he mumbled, then looked up. He flinched at the sight of her bright red hair and nearly exploded in a laugh.

  Krystal propped a hand on her hip. “You see this every year, Aaron. Doesn’t it get old?”

  His blue eyes danced. “Nope. Not a bit. It’s still freaking hilarious to see you in a wig.” Then he looked to Valerie. “The demon looks like she’s flying her usual colors too.”

  As expected, the gothic barista flipped him the bird and he laughed.

  “So, really,” Krystal said again, “where’s Devin?”

  All humor left the cop’s expression and he let out a long sigh. Before he replied, he looked around the coffee shop to make sure no one was paying attention. “There was another murder last night. Same way as Elizabeth, same drop off location, but only about half a mile east.” Instantly the other girls were at the counter, hanging on every word.

  “Who was it?” Alexa whispered, her glittery artificial eyelashes sparkling in the lights. Her overdone makeup gave Aaron pause at first, but he recovered quickly.

  “He was actually here last night,” he said in a low whisper. “Harry Middleton. Who was on duty while he was here? We have other eye witnesses who were on Johnson Avenue last night that said he was coming out of here with Father Frank.”

  Krystal’s chest ached for Alexa. She might have been one of the last people to talk to Harry. Save for Father Frank. And to think that the poor drunk was killed in the same way with his chest cut open and throat slashed. She shiver
ed, knowing exactly what this meant. Whoever the murderer was, he wasn’t done after Elizabeth. What was the likelihood that he still wasn’t done after Harry? If a murderer in Goldcrest Cove wasn’t bad enough, they had a serial killer now.

  “Yeah,” Alexa replied, her voice breathy and quivering. “He was here last night.”

  “Can you tell me anything about how he and Father Frank were getting along?” There was a certain streak of emotion in Aaron’s question that made her wonder if he had dreaded to ask it at all. Then, it occurred to Krystal that Father Frank had ties with both victims. She only hoped that the kind priest wasn’t at the top of their suspect list. There was no way he could have committed these murders.

  Alexa didn’t speak. Her gaze turned distant, unfocused as if she were in a mental fog. At the risk of getting glitter all over her Poison Ivy outfit, Krystal wrapped her arm around Alexa’s waist, hoping to serve as that grounding presence like her friend had been so many times for her.

  “Can you come back a little later, Aaron? I think she needs some time.”

  Alexa blinked and lifted up her hands. “No, I’m fine. Really.” She took a breath before continuing. “They were just talking.” Then, she went into the little details of Harry crying and Father Frank trying to comfort him.

  When her friend was done, Valerie quickly asked, “Do you think Father Frank did it?”

  Aaron made that same, wry face Devin had made just before he told her that there had been a murder in Goldcrest Cove. That same face that said he didn’t want to talk about it, but he was about to anyway. Krystal didn’t want to hear it, though.

  “Right now, Father Frank is the only one that links to both victims. He was seen with Elizabeth at the festival, the day before she was murdered, and he was the last one to talk to Harry last night before we found him. He had an alibi for the first murder, but we haven’t seen him about Harry yet. I know Devin’s going to want to talk to him again, just to find out what they talked about, if any of it’s important to the investigation.”