The Witch On Twisted Oak

by Muller, Susan C.

  The more he looked, the more he realized several of the heads had seen better days. Spider webs hung between the antlers and dust bunnies had made a home in unlikely places. Maybe the place did need a little attention, but he just used it to fish and host an occasional poker party. He hadn’t been up here in a couple of months.

  Now was the time. Before one of them made a break for it.

  “Mamacita, I think you owe it to Tessa to let her know why you’re so upset. What you think her mother did to you.”

  Tessa’s eyes widened and she jerked her head around. Mamacita tried to shrink into the armrest of the sofa. She shot him a dirty look, but he didn’t care. It was time to get this out in the open.

  He’d do it himself if she wouldn’t. “Mamacita claims your mother tried to kill her.”

  Mamacita sat up. “She didn’t try. She succeeded. I have three weeks left at the most. That woman had it in for our family for years. She ruined your life and now she’s taken mine.”

  Tessa’s head snapped back. She had been slapped many times as a child; it was her stepmother’s favorite method of showing disapproval. And the sting of this blow felt every bit as physical as psychological.

  So far, she had avoided touching Mamacita at all. She didn’t need any special powers to know the woman was ill, and she was willing to cut her some slack on her grumpy attitude.

  But this time she’d gone too far.

  “My mother may have had her faults, but she never, ever knowingly did anyone any harm. It was against her religion and she took that very seriously.”

  Mamacita waved her hand dismissively. “What religion? She was a witch.”

  A look of horror crossed Ruben’s face. “Mamacita, please. Tessa is our guest. Her life is in danger and she just lost her mother. This is not the way you taught me to treat people.”

  Finally. She knew he had been trying to take care of his sick mother, and the strain he’d been under showed on his face, but it was about time he showed some backbone. He’d forced her to come to this remote spot, then left her to deal with the crabby old woman.

  The embarrassment on Ruben’s face turned to anger. “You told me you didn’t know the woman so how could she have ruined my life? A life that I’m quite happy with. Now, did you know her or not? I can’t solve this case without all the information.”

  “She lived here before, years ago. I recognized her immediately. And she started in again with her old tricks. Telling people what to do, changing their lives, not always for the better.” She shot a hard glance at Ruben.

  “And that’s not all. There were rumors she was interested in little boys. I warned you to stay away from her but you didn’t listen. You went to see her and you were never the same. I couldn’t let that happen to some other little boy, some other family.”

  Tessa’s heart clinched. That wasn’t true. Her mother wasn’t a pervert, was she?

  Ruben leaned forward. “I checked on that story myself. It was a complete misunderstanding. A kid got lost and ended up somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. He saw Tessa’s mother without any clothes on and couldn’t wait to tell his buddies what he’d seen. She only found out later he was even there.”

  A vein in the side of her neck began to pulse. So he’d known the whole time he spent questioning her yet made her defend her mother? Sure he needed information, but that didn’t mean he had to be a jerk.

  “Maybe, but she did something that changed you from a good, obedient boy into a scoundrel. Then you gave up your dreams of becoming a priest. Because of her, you carry a gun instead of a cross. I tell you she was a witch.” Mamacita almost spit out the last word.

  “Stop it. You will not call a murder victim names.” Ruben’s voice rose with each word.

  Tessa sat up straight. “She was most certainly a witch, and proud of it. And she followed the Wicca religion.”

  Mamacita’s face flushed, but embarrassment didn’t stop her. “That’s not a religion, that’s just hokum. A made-up religion. Paganism.”

  Tessa gritted her teeth and took Mamacita’s hand. Like it or not, it was time to see into her soul. She immediately recognized the goodness in her, just covered by fear and pain. But there was something else. A feeling like the fizz of carbonated water running through her veins. Something she’d never come across before. Except once. With her own mother. She yanked her hand back and stared at Mamacita. The old woman stared back with a blank expression.

  Probably just a misunderstanding. She really hadn’t had that much experience reading people.

  “I know you’re a Catholic, so am I. But don’t be so fast to dismiss another person’s beliefs. Wicca is one of the fastest growing religions in the country.”

  Ruben leaned his head back. “That’s the second time there’s been a mention of her religion. I should have studied up on it. I’m not usually that negligent.”

  “I’ve spent the last month reading everything I could find about her beliefs. I only wish I’d started earlier. We discussed it on the phone the last time we talked. I’ll tell you what I learned, if you promise to keep an open mind.”

  Chapter 22

  Ruben studied the moon, as he had every night since Mamacita’s pronouncement of impending death. Despite all his efforts of will, it continued to shrink.

  He stood at the window, hands in the pockets of his jeans, and toyed with the loose coins and keys. Emotions in the room were too high. Everyone needed a few minutes to calm down.

  The expression on Tessa’s face when she grasped Mamacita’s hand had shaken him. It was like she saw deep into her soul.

  Remembering the feeling of electricity when her hand brushed his on their walk shook him even more.

  Tessa’s head hung down and her voice hovered above a whisper. “My mother never denied what she was or what she believed in and that cost her dearly. People ridiculed and harassed her. The pressure, along with the knowledge of what awaited her, drove her to drink.” She shot a glance at Mamacita. “And that did ruin her life.”

  Ruben’s cheeks burned as, little-by-little, memories of that night crept back into his consciousness.

  The story of the naked woman in the woods had swept over the school like a tsunami. Boys and girls had giggled and whispered, but it was the boys who made secret plans to visit her. Most of the boys were older than him, but by age eleven, he had already reached the size of a grown man so they allowed him to tag along.

  The rest of the events remained fuzzy, but Yolanda Garza appeared as clear as when she stood in front of him twenty-three years earlier. A mass of black hair tumbled wildly around her face and down her back. Her lips were as red as her fingertips. Her laugh hung in the air, rich and throaty. She was the most enticing woman he had ever seen and he lost his heart for the first time. Or at least experienced his first erection, which amounted to the same thing at that age.

  His jaw clenched. Something dramatic had happened that day, but it remained out of reach. Had he inadvertently contributed to the cycle of events that had led to her death?

  No wonder Tessa resented him.

  “Just because witches don’t worship God doesn’t mean they worship the devil.” He heard the catch in Tessa’s voice and realized how hard this was for her.

  Standing with his face toward the window couldn’t help, so he moved back to his recliner. “No one ever said they did.”

  “Plenty of people believe that. It’s what my father and step-mother taught me.”

  Mamacita reached over and patted her arm. “Why don’t you tell us about it, so we can understand? I’ve heard about witches all my life, but never really understood them.”

  “Wicca is a religion. Not all witches follow Wicca, but all Wiccans are witches and my mother was a passionate Wiccan. The way I understand Wicca, and I may be all wet, is, it’s a cross between the Golden Rule and karma is a bitch.” Tessa shot a quick glance at Mamacita as if worried about her language, but then shrugged and kept going.

  “There’s a long poem, calle
d a Rede that I had memorized at one time. I can’t recall it all now, but you can find it on the Internet. Anyway, it goes something like this:

  “Eight words the Wiccan Rede fulfill

  And it harm none, do what ye will

  “The Rede continues with a lot about the moon and the solstice and then ends with:

  “Mind the Threefold Law you should,

  Three times bad and three times good.”

  Ruben blinked twice. That’s what this was all about? It seemed fairly tame to him.

  Mamacita leaned closer, her eyes wide. “But what does that mean, dear?”

  “It means a Wiccan can do what she wants, live her life her own way, as long as she hurts no one. Actually, no living thing, because that includes animals and the earth itself which grows and changes. But remember, what you do in life comes back on you threefold, both the good and the bad.”

  Tessa rubbed a hand across her face, exhaustion evident in every move. Ruben wanted to take her hand and make it better, but how?

  He shook his head. It was all too confusing. “You said your mother went into the woods that night to celebrate the winter solstice, was that part of her religion?”

  “Even within the Wicca community there are different beliefs, I suppose like different denominations, but they all believe those two things: the Rede of eight words and the threefold law. I doubt it’s absolutely necessary to celebrate the solstice that way, but my mother always was a free spirit. I think she just liked the excuse to dance in the woods.”

  “But what about hexes and spells? I grew up hearing about those.” Mamacita kept her hand on Tessa’s arm.

  Ruben held his breath. If Tessa could convince Mamacita she wasn’t hexed, maybe she would forget all this dying nonsense, take the pills her doctor gave her, and get better.

  “A Wiccan may place a spell on someone only with their permission. It is forbidden to hex anyone. My mother believed in the tenets explained in the Rede and would never purposely harm another person.”

  “Nevertheless, my dear, she put a hex on me. Unless it’s removed, I’m to die by the next full moon.”

  There went his chance to talk her out of it. He didn’t have any idea what to do next. Hell, if anyone in the family was cursed, it was him. Whatever had happened when he was a kid had a direct connection to this case. Yet large portions of that year were foggy. Like someone had whitewashed over his memories.

  When Tessa saw Ruben take an agitated Molly out for a final walk and Mamacita retire for the night, she decided to grab a shower. That might help wash the tension from her shoulders.

  The amount of hot water was a pleasant surprise, and she stayed in the bathroom until the mirror fogged and her muscles relaxed.

  Now to slip into the bedroom without disturbing Ruben, Molly, Bob, or Mamacita. Worrying about it already had her shoulders tense again.

  She cracked the door open and peeked out. Nothing. The room was empty.

  Halfway to the bedroom, a blast of cold air hit her. Molly rushed across the room and placed muddy paws on her flannel sleep pants.

  Ruben slammed the front door and ran to rescue her, calling, “Molly. Molly. No. Down.”

  Couldn’t he control that dog? She ignored him every time he gave a command. The dog barked, ran in circles, and jumped against her legs. Ruben tried to follow, but was always two steps behind.

  She had purposely worn an oversized sleep shirt in an attempt at modesty, but now crossed her arms over her chest, scrunched her eyes shut, and turned in small circles, trying to avoid Ruben, the dog, and the embarrassment.

  Molly gave one last jump and hit her directly on the back of her knees. Her stomach lurched as her knees buckled. Ruben’s arm shot out and wrapped around her waist like a steel cable, preventing her from hitting the floor, but Molly kept jumping and her leash tangled around her legs.

  None of the three of them could move without bringing down the other two. Tessa kept her eyes closed. She hadn’t managed to avoid Ruben, Molly, or the humiliation, but she didn’t have to look at his face.

  Slowly, Ruben lowered her to the floor and moved his arm. She cracked one eye open and watched as he grabbed Molly, stuck her into the bathroom, and yanked the door shut.

  When he returned, his face had a pink tinge. Was it the cold night air, the exertion, or did he feel as uncomfortable as she did?

  “Here, let me help you.” He held out both hands to her.

  This was it. Now or never. She took a deep breath and grasped his hands. She held tight as he pulled her to her feet.

  If his face had been pink before, it now glowed bright red. The electricity that ran down her arm and through her body must have flowed both ways. Her mother had warned her this might happen occasionally, but only with someone very special.

  He tried to yank his hands away, but she tightened her grip. Her mind filled with a whirlwind of images and emotions as she flew backwards through his life.

  Starting with his feelings when he met her—she’d have to deal with that later—she felt the horror, regret, and anger he experienced at every murder he investigated, the combination of love and exasperation he felt for his family, even his partner, the need he tried to fill with a series of women, and finally, his deep, if flawed, faith.

  His soul wasn’t lily white, she’d never met anyone whose was, but it wasn’t tainted as she’d expected. She searched her mind through the color palette. Not eggshell or cream, maybe ecru, or perhaps a pale beige. Lighter than most she’d come across.

  Where was the blackness her mother had warned her about? “Watch out for Ruben Jay. He has evil in his soul. Somehow, someway, he’ll be the death of me, and maybe even you.”

  How could her mother have been so mistaken? Was everything she taught her wrong?

  Her breath caught. Maybe Mamacita was right. Maybe her mother had gone to the dark side and placed a hex on her.

  This was all too much to think about while holding hands with Ruben. She loosened her grip and he pulled his hands back, clearly flustered.

  Bob yowled from his bedroom and Tessa realized he’d been doing that since Molly started barking. “I’d better see about Bob. All this commotion has probably upset him.” No telling what it had done to Mamacita.

  Ruben didn’t answer, just looked from his hands to her and back.

  How was she ever going to explain it to him, and how would he feel about her if she did? Even more important was something she’d never worried about before. What did he see? What color was her soul?

  And why did she care what he thought?

  Chapter 23

  Ruben had planned to sleep in the recliner. He would be able to doze yet stay close enough to the door that any noise would wake him. Sleeping in one of the cubbies was out of the question anyway. They were way to short.

  He’d spent most of his life in beds that were too short, but at least he could hang his feet over the end. In the cubbies, his feet hit a wall.

  As soon as his hands quite tingling he’d tried to convince himself that he’d imagined everything. Probably static electricity. St. Elmo’s fire.

  But how did he now know things about her life? He had seen it unfold before him. Her lonely childhood as an unwanted reminder of her father’s unfaithfulness. Her constant longing for her mother’s return mixed with fear of what might happen if she did.

  The thing that hurt him the most, that caused him to grit his teeth and tighten his fists, was the sight of the little girl from the painting, huddling on the floor during her mother’s violent outburst. He could smell the incense that had filled the room as the woman who had stirred him so with her beauty, now showed a face contorted with rage.

  His own leg felt the pain as the crystal ball flew across the room and shattered next to Tessa, sending shards of jagged glass into her leg, causing a wound that became infected and required several surgeries.

  He looked at his hands again, now ice cold. All the things he’d seen he already knew or had guessed about her life. N
othing had happened except a feeling of lust for a beautiful woman.

  No, it was more than that. He was filled with admiration at the way she’d overcome so much in her life, yet managed to embrace her surroundings. He’d laughed at Emily when she’d spouted off about some TV show that said to find your bliss. Tessa Reyna had done exactly that.

  Had he? Or was he still letting childhood demons influence the way he thought about life? If so, was he too stubborn to learn something from Tessa?

  Either way, he was about to spend a weekend with a desirable woman he couldn’t touch.

  He wasn’t a horny teenager. He could handle it.

  Tessa hugged Bob to her chest and slipped silently into bed. She had ditched her muddy flannel pajama bottoms and wore only her bikinis panties, but her T-shirt hung to mid-thigh.

  Mamacita snorted and rolled onto her side.

  So much for hoping the old woman had slept through the commotion.

  She stroked Bob, but the cat remained on high alert. Within minutes, Mamacita was fast asleep.

  Molly guarded the far side of the closed door, whining periodically. Whenever Molly whined, Bob hissed. As Mamacita slipped deeper into sleep, she began to snore.

  Soon, Tessa had a symphony. Whine, hiss, snore. Whine, hiss, snore. Whine, hiss, snore. She tried to calm Bob, but he’d have none of it. She brushed her arm against Mamacita, hoping she would roll over. Nope.

  After an hour, Molly’s whining had stopped, but Bob still make low, growling sounds, deep in his throat, and Mamacita’s snores had risen several decibels. Tessa’s nerves jumped and twitched until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

  She eased out of the bed and held her ear against the closed door. No sound greeted her. Molly’s shadow wasn’t visible through the space at the bottom.

  She hugged Bob to her chest and slipped through the bedroom door, closing it softly behind her. Ruben had pulled mattresses from two of the cubbies and placed them blocking the front door.