Bad to the Crone

by Amanda M. Lee

  For a brief moment she looked so sad it tugged on my heartstrings. “You’re probably better off. Look at me. People think I’m powerful, which should earn respect, but it doesn’t. It’s worse. It draws fear, so they watch me with suspicion.”

  “If you’re talking about me, I was not watching you with suspicion. I was merely asking a question. There’s no reason to get your panties in a bunch.”

  “My panties are most certainly not in a bunch,” I fired back, annoyed. “I don’t even like that saying.”

  “Well, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re getting worked up. I’m not sure I understand why either. You’ve been here three days. There’s obviously a learning curve to changing locations. It’s okay to not know everything right off the bat.”

  Was that the way I was coming off? I didn’t like that idea one bit. “I’m fine not knowing everything.”

  “That’s not how it appears.” Bonnie’s tone was light and easy, but there was a seriousness about her that couldn’t be denied. “I think you’re worked up because you’re new and you’re not used to being the center of attention. Perhaps in Detroit you could fade into the background and it wasn’t a big deal. That’s not possible here because you’re kind of like a celebrity, what with the hero worship from Raisin and killing a spriggan with fire less than an hour after arriving.

  “There’s no reason to let your emotions get the best of you,” she continued. “We’re not going to judge you for being different. In fact, we’re fairly excited about you being different. We think that means we can learn from you. If that means we have to teach you a few things along the way, so much the better.”

  I stared at her for a long moment. “Well, that’s great. I ... .” Honestly, I had no idea what I was going to say. If I was going anywhere with the rest of the conversation, I wasn’t sure where. I felt put on the spot, and I wasn’t entirely sure why because Bonnie had been nothing but straightforward and polite.

  In truth, the people of Hawthorne Hollow had been open and welcoming. They’d been nice and willing to engage me in whatever conversation they thought might interest me. I wasn’t used to that. In Detroit, you had to be careful. It wasn’t wise to trust everyone.

  I was about to admit that when I heard a noise that caught my attention. When I realized what I was looking at, all thought of opening up for a serious conversation with Bonnie fled.

  “All Souls Church,” I muttered, shaking my head. “That’s … interesting.”

  “Why is that interesting?” Bonnie asked, her eyes busy as she watched church members casually move between the building and parking lot. “I’ve always found this place weird. Like ... really weird. I’m not exactly religious outside the craft, but if I was, this is the last church I would visit.”

  “And why is that?” I cast her a sidelong look. “What’s weird about this church?”

  “What’s not weird about it?” She snorted derisively. “Seriously, I don’t have anything against organized religion. It’s not my thing, but I don’t get worked up over people worshipping. In fact, I’m a big fan of people worshipping however they choose.”

  “But?” I prodded.

  “But this place is weird.” She said it with such confidence I couldn’t help but laugh. “No, seriously. If you watch those television shows about cults — which I do because I find the whole thing fascinating — All Souls could be switched out for any number of them.

  “They’re insulated, have a charismatic leader — at least they think so — and they shun others,” she continued. “The whole thing is creepy and weird.”

  I had no intention of arguing with her because I felt the same way. “I met Father Bram the other day. He’s a bit ... odd.”

  “Oh, you think?” Bonnie’s eyebrows hopped as Cecily exited the church and pulled up short, the woman’s eyes automatically tracking to us. “She doesn’t look happy to see us, does she?”

  “No.” I pursed my lips. “She’s really weird, too.”

  “I’m telling you the entire congregation is weird,” Bonnie said. “They’re like Waco weird.”

  On a whim, I raised my hand and waved at Cecily. I wasn’t surprised when she scowled and refused to wave back.

  “She likes you,” Bonnie enthused, chuckling. “You two are going to be best friends. She’s going to hug you, and gossip with you and go to Starbucks with you because, girl, she’s ready to bond with you.”

  I didn’t move my eyes from Cecily. In turn, she refused to stop staring at me. It was an interesting standoff. “Don’t call me ‘girl,’” I said absently.

  “Would you prefer I call you ‘majesty’ or something?”

  “No. I just hate the term ‘girl.’ It’s demeaning. I have a name. ‘Girl’ is something only annoying people say. In fact, back when I first started with Spells Angels I had a roommate who called everyone ‘girl.’ I came to realize she thought it made her sound cool when, in reality, it was just her way of not having to learn anyone’s name. I don’t respond when people call me ‘girl.’ It’s a pet peeve.”

  “Fair enough.” Bonnie grimaced when Cecily planted her feet and squared her shoulders. She hadn’t as much as blinked. “What do you think it means that the footprints led here? Do you think the killer is here?”

  “That’s what it would seem to indicate,” I replied. “I guess I can’t be a hundred percent sure. Maybe the footsteps belonged to Hal. He was a member of the church, after all.”

  “Good point. Still, I think the church bears some looking into.”

  “Definitely,” I agreed, an idea forming when I saw Father Bram ease out from beneath one of the eaves and move in Cecily’s direction. The dude was oily. He made me uncomfortable. He was at the church, which meant it was safe to venture elsewhere. “I think I know where we should go next.”

  “Oh, yeah? Where’s that?”

  “I don’t have an address, but I know where I want to go. I’m hoping you can help me with the rest of it.”

  BONNIE HAD no idea where Hal lived. Ultimately she had to call Marissa — who was apparently getting her hair done and didn’t like being interrupted — to make sure we headed in the right direction.

  “This should be it,” Bonnie said, checking the coordinates she’d plugged into her phone GPS. “Yeah. This is definitely supposed to be it.”

  To make sure, I opened the mailbox at the end of the driveway and tugged out an envelope. “It’s the right place,” I said when I read the name. “Marissa might not be pleasant, but she’s helpful when she wants to be.”

  “Not really,” Bonnie countered. “Marissa is all about herself. She’s powerful in some aspects. She’s also lazy. You don’t want to get paired up with her on assignments.”

  “In Detroit we rarely get paired with anyone,” I admitted, starting up the driveway. “We’re expected to solve problems ourselves.”

  “Probably because you have more problems to deal with,” Bonnie said pragmatically. “We have specific problems up here, problems that grow huge before we sometimes realize it because everyone is spaced out. Down there, everyone is on top of everyone else and you have more population, which means more creatures that feed on the population.”

  “Good point.” I dug in my pocket until I came back with my lock-picking tools and the wild look that came into Bonnie’s eyes when she realized what I was about to do made me laugh out loud.

  “You can’t be serious,” she hissed, glancing around to make sure nobody was watching. I’d already scanned the neighborhood and came up empty when looking for busybodies.

  “No, no, no.” Bonnie vehemently shook her head, her hair brushing her shoulders. “We could get arrested for this. It’s against the law.”

  I couldn’t decide if she was joking. “Only if we get caught. I have no intention of getting caught.”

  “You might not intend to get caught, but it could happen.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m serious. I ... oh, you’re doing it.” She threw her hands in the hair, frustration rolling
off her. “You’re really doing it. I can’t believe it. You’re breaking and entering. If we end up in jail I’m going to be really angry.”

  “Duly noted.” I chewed my bottom lip until I heard the telltale click I was waiting for and the door fell open. I slipped the lock-pick set back in my pocket before gesturing toward the now-open door. “Shall we?”

  She made a face. “This is so wrong.”

  “Then stay here,” I suggested, my agitation getting the better of me. “You can serve as lookout while I break the law.”

  “I can’t be lookout.” Bonnie was beside herself. “The lookout is always arrested.”

  “Then come inside with me.”

  “I’ll definitely be arrested then.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t care what you do,” I said finally, slipping through the opening. “Come, don’t come, makes no difference to me. We have limited time, and I need to look around.”

  “What are you expecting to find?” Bonnie timidly poked her head through the door but didn’t follow me, uncertainty etching pronounced frown lines across her pretty face. “I’m serious. What do you think you’re going to find? Hal wasn’t the type to leave a journal and admit that he was into freaky stuff.”

  “Maybe not a journal,” I said, my eyes falling on a distinctive tome that rested on the end table at the far side of the room. “That doesn’t mean there’s no book that will answer questions.” I strode toward the table and scooped up the hefty book, grunting when I realized I needed both hands given its weight. “Good grief.”

  “What is that?” Her earlier reticence forgotten, Bonnie followed me completely inside. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “I don’t know. Do you think it’s a grimoire?” I flipped open the book and frowned at the handwritten pages. “Geez. I’m pretty sure this isn’t English ... although, this page is English.” I flipped through five pages before rolling my neck. “It’s in several different languages. That can’t be normal.”

  “Definitely not,” Bonnie agreed, moving closer. “Can I see that?”

  I relinquished the book and watched as she reverently flipped it over. “It’s old. This is the sort of thing that’s passed down from generation to generation.”

  “Okay. What is it doing here?”

  She shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t even know what’s in the book. It’s going to take time to dig all the secrets out.”

  “Well, we can’t take that time here.” I glanced around to make sure nothing else was sitting out for anybody to see. “We should take it and get out of here. We can always come back if we need to. This place isn’t difficult to break into.”

  Bonnie scowled. “Now you’re just trying to annoy me.”

  I chuckled. “You’re a pretty easy mark.”

  “Maybe.” She was somber as she flipped through another few pages. “This grimoire could be a really big find. It’s obviously someone’s life work.”

  “That book is so old I’m guessing it’s the life work of several someones.”

  “Good point. I need time to study it.”

  “I’m taking it to my place to study,” I said. “If you want to study it, you can do it there. For now, I want to read it myself.”

  “I can screenshot what I need and go from there. That’s enough for now.”

  “Great. Let’s get it out of here. We don’t want to get caught and go to jail.”

  Her scowl was back. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

  “No.”

  “I guess I deserve that.”

  “You definitely do,” I agreed, the earlier dregs I’d been carrying easing. Finally, we were getting somewhere. “That book has to mean something.”

  Seventeen

  I took the grimoire back to the cabin. It was hard for me to think of it as home – at least so far – but I was starting to get used to my new surroundings.

  The kitten met me at the door, but instead of rubbing against my legs as a form of greeting he screeched until I dumped fresh food in his bowl and then promptly forgot me. That allowed me to carry the grimoire to my bed – the only comfortable piece of furniture in the entire place – and start flipping through it.

  I’d seen my fair share of magic books. Once, while chasing a group of drudes – nightmare demons who kept trying to feed off the students at the adjoining school – through a church, I was blown through a wall and found an ancient Christian text. It helped me eradicate the drudes, and then an entire cadre of Spells Angels historians descended and spent a full month delving into the book. It turns out that it contained all kinds of spells, most of them beyond our ability to cast. They were from a time long since forgotten.

  I hoped this book would be different.

  The first page was faded, an illustration that I couldn’t quite make out consuming most of the page. There were letters on the bottom, script of some sort, and I was guessing someone had written a name there at some point. It was so long ago that it had worn away, which meant the book had seen frequent use over the years.

  The drawing was another matter entirely. It looked like a horned demon stood in front of the fires of Hell, but I couldn’t be sure because the right side of the page was much more faded than the left.

  When I flipped to the next page, I found something I recognized, but only because I’d seen it a time or two. I didn’t understand the words but I verified the language.

  “Hebrew,” I muttered to myself, rolling my neck. “So there’s Latin and Hebrew in this book. That’s interesting.”

  I flipped another page and found a second illustration. This one featured a series of thorns overlapping one another, what looked to be blood dripping from the points. It was a biblical image as far as I could tell. Maybe not a crown of thorns, but definitely a group of them.

  I lost myself in the book, turning page after page as I tried to follow a storyline even though there was no prose to read. I was so lost in the book that I almost jumped out of my skin when someone knocked on my door. The sound was loud enough that it shook the thin walls of the cabin and made me slam the book shut in surprise.

  It took me a moment to collect my breath and then I slowly climbed off the bed. The cabin was dark thanks to the curtains Gunner and I had installed, and I couldn’t see the driveway. Still, no matter how distracted I was by the book, I should’ve heard a motorcycle pull up. That wasn’t something I could simply miss.

  The insistent knocking returned and I increased my pace. I figured it was probably Gunner checking up on me – perhaps he wanted to apologize for ducking out on our plans this morning – but I pulled up short when I yanked open the door and found Raisin standing on the front porch.

  “What are you doing here?”

  If she was offended by the question she didn’t show it. Instead, she merely grinned. “I went to school today.”

  I blinked several times and collected my thoughts. “Do you want a reward or something?”

  She snorted. “Of course not. I just don’t want you to think you need to order me away. I went to school. It’s fine that I’m here.”

  I turned to look at the clock on the wall to make sure she was telling the truth. It was almost four, so I figured I was safe. “Okay, you went to school. What are you doing here now?”

  “I came to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  “Can’t I just be curious?” Raisin challenged. “I mean … you are the new witch in town.”

  Her grin was impish and the twinkle in her eyes was full of charm. I wanted to kick her out, turn her away, dismiss her determination to hang out with me.

  I couldn’t, though.

  “Fine. You’re curious.” I pushed open the door to allow her entrance. “There’s soda in the fridge and cookies on the counter.”

  “There’s also a kitten.” Raisin almost knocked me over as she barreled past me and slid to the floor to greet my cuddly roommate. “Oh, I’ve
always wanted a kitten. Where did you get her?”

  “Him,” I corrected automatically.

  “Where did you get him?”

  “The lumberyard. You were there.”

  “I didn’t know you found a kitten. Gunner sent me to the front office because I’m a minor and minors aren’t allowed to wander around the lumberyard without a designated guardian.”

  “Oh.” I racked my memory. “I guess you didn’t see him. Well, you see him now. Gunner said I had to take him or the world would end, so he’s here. You can take him if you want.”

  The second I made the offer I regretted it. I never fancied myself a cat person – a pet person, really – and yet I was already attached to the little monster. Thankfully, Raisin had started shaking her head the moment the words escaped, so I didn’t have to rescind the offer.

  “Oh, no,” she said hurriedly. “I can’t have a pet. My father wouldn’t like it.”

  “Oh, is he allergic?”

  “No, he just wouldn’t like it.” For a brief moment the look that crossed Raisin’s face was full of emotional distress. I wanted to ask her about it – the panicked glance pierced my heart – but I was afraid that I would be overstepping a boundary that I couldn’t uncross. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about the girl as much as I didn’t want to invade her personal business.

  “Well, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.” I led her back toward the bedroom. “So far, this little guy has slept on my head and chest and he screams when he’s hungry. It’s just like having a baby.”

  Raisin giggled. “That’s funny. I love him.” She scooped up the kitten and followed me. “What’s that?”

  I didn’t have to turn to know that her eyes were on the grimoire. “It’s a book.”

  “It’s a spell book,” she corrected, leaving the kitten on the bed as she reached for the book. She looked eager … and somehow knowledgeable, which I found interesting.

  “How do you know it’s a spell book?” I asked.

  “I’ve seen spell books before. I know what the Spells Angels are.”

  I wasn’t sure that was true. “How do you know? Did Rooster tell you?”