Chapter and Curse

by Nancy Warren

  “Bad things. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t work with the rest of the coven to put you back in the ground?”

  Her gaze was steely. “I’ll give you two reasons. One, you are part of a terrible prophecy. And if we’re to stop Ballydehag from being destroyed, you’ll need my help.”

  Okay, that was bad enough. There were two things? I wasn’t even sure I wanted to hear the second. I said nothing, just stared at her. It was possible that my jaw had become unhinged and was hanging down on my chest.

  She didn’t wait for me to ask. She said, with relish, “And the second reason is, without my help, you’ll be the next one to die.”

  Chapter 13

  “Are you planning to kill me? Like you killed poor Brenda O’Donnell? Because I should tell you, I’m not without power myself.”

  Her tone was peevish. “Why would I kill my own kin?” Then she paused. “I don’t mean husbands.” As though they were expendable, which, to her, it seemed they had been. “You’re my flesh and blood, girl.”

  And I’d have taken flesh and blood from a lot of other places before I’d ever want hers.

  “I will not kill you. And I didn’t kill that other gal, either.”

  I was very relieved to hear this. I really hoped it turned out to be true.

  “I’ve nowhere to stay tonight,” she said. “Have you a guest room?”

  I didn’t think Biddy O’Donnell had ever slept in a guest room in her life. And she wouldn’t be bedding down in mine.

  I shook my head. “It’s too dangerous. The coven knows you’re free, and they want to put you back.” I didn’t say, “where you belong,” but the words echoed anyway, unsaid. It wasn’t really an excuse. If Pendress Kennedy and Kathleen McGinnis got so much as a whiff of my not-so-illustrious ancestor, they’d be throwing every spell they had to get rid of her. I wasn’t sure they were wrong. She sniffed. “Fine. I’ll go back to the house on the hill.”

  I was immediately suspicious. “What house on the hill?”

  She looked at me like I was being particularly stupid. “Where the man died. And his daughter.”

  And speaking of the house on the hill… “It was you, wasn’t it? The hideous face in the mirror. And you who wrote that horrible message on the mirror telling me to go home.”

  “Yes. It was me.”

  “But why? If you’ve got some prophecy that says you and I need to work together to prevent obliteration, why would you try to send me home?”

  “I was annoyed. I wanted to get your attention. And I suppose I wanted to see what you’d do. If you turned tail and ran home again, then you wouldn’t be able to stand against dark forces, now would you?”

  I supposed that made sense. “So you’ve been sleeping in Brenda O’Donnell’s house?”

  She made a sound that was half growl, half shriek. “It was mine long before it was hers.” Her fury passed as suddenly as it had risen. “Besides, haven’t the beds come a long way since I was mortal? So comfortable. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve had the best night’s sleep I’ve had in years. Centuries.”

  I had a feeling that anything would be an improvement on being stood on your broken head in a bunch of dirt under a massive stone, but I kept that feeling to myself.

  I was very confused. I looked at her sitting, small and wizened and looking at me out of those crafty, old eyes. What did she really want? Finally, I came right out and asked her. “If you have that nice bed to sleep in in the O’Donnell residence, why would you want to stay here in my little, humble cottage?” My cottage really wasn’t that humble, but I was pushing the idea.

  She cackled. The thing about witches is we’ve come a long way in hundreds of years. We don’t wear pointy hats, most of us don’t have warts on our noses, and we don’t cackle. Biddy O’Donnell had a lot to learn about the modern witch. When she’d finished cackling, she said, “I need you to buy my house back for me.”

  Fingers of icy dread walked their way down my spine. My horror must have shown on my face, for she cackled again. I shook my head. “You’re not thinking of staying in Ballydehag, are you?”

  “Where else would I go? This is my home. You will buy the house on the hill so I’ll be safe. We’re kin, after all.”

  I really needed to get this straight. “Are you suggesting that we live together?” I could not think of any worse fate. She would literally be the roommate from hell.

  She didn’t look thrilled to live with me either. “It’s the only way I can have what’s rightfully mine.”

  “I don’t want to be rude about this, but I don’t think you have the right to property. You’ve been dead for hundreds of years.” I thought about it. “Besides, that house can’t be more than two hundred years old. It couldn’t have been yours.”

  She looked annoyed. Her little, wizened face got even more pinched, and I could hear the snapping of her few remaining teeth banging together. “They burned down my house.”

  I felt my eyes open wide. “Who burned down your house?”

  “They hated me. And they’ll hate you, too. You try to live peacefully and be a good witch, but they always have their eyes on you. And at the slightest deviation, they’ll come after you like a pack of hungry wolves.”

  “Who’s they?”

  She snorted. “The regular folk. But don’t be fooled. Some of your witches will turn on you too.”

  A vision of Pendress Kennedy flashed across my mind. She seemed like she might turn on me if I didn’t toe the line.

  “Is it true what they say about you?”

  She sat up very straight. Being that she was quite short, her head still didn’t reach the top of the chair back. “Of course, it’s not true.” Then she shifted a little, and those black eyes gleamed. “What do they say?”

  On top of what Kathleen had told me, I’d done some research on my computer. My training as a law librarian was coming in surprisingly useful, and I’d found some very interesting old documents. “You were accused of murdering your husbands. And, also, taking away a woman’s bloom of youth prematurely. And finally, for consorting with the devil.”

  She banged her foot on the flagstone floor, and since she was wearing those wooden clogs, it made quite a racket. “Scurrilous lies.” She shook her head at me so the thin, gray wisps of her hair floated about. “I had three husbands. Is it my fault they were weaklings? And because I became a wealthy woman, the townspeople decided I was consorting with the devil. They couldn’t accept that a woman could run an excellent business on her own. If she didn’t have a husband behind her, it must be the devil.”

  I had some sympathy for her. Women’s rights had come a long way even in the last fifty years. I couldn’t imagine what it had been like in her time. I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt on those. “But what about the accusation that you stole the bloom of youth away from another woman?”

  Again with that terrible cackle. “That one’s true. She was so very proud of her long, flowing, red hair. I might have let her be if she hadn’t insulted me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I put a curse on her. Her hair fell out. Every last hair on her head. It was most satisfying.”

  Note to self. Do not get on the wrong side of Biddy O’Donnell.

  I said, “Biddy, if the other witches find out you’re here, they will put you back in the ground again.” There had been no doubt that was Pendress Kennedy’s intention. Mine too, truth be told. Though, now that I was having a conversation with this old witch, I hesitated to do anything so brutal. But what else were we going to do with her? “You can’t stay here. Why don’t you go to a different part of Ireland?”

  “I’ve just told you. This is my home. And I want my house back. Well, not my house, because they burned that down, but I quite like the one they put in its place. You buy that and move into it, and you’ll barely notice I’m there. Perhaps stay away from the upper floor.”

  “I can’t afford the O’Donnell house.”

  She had no p
atience for my excuses. “Do what I did. Do what women have always done. Marry a man of good fortune. Find a stupid one with lots of money. You can lead him around by his nose with a little magic.”

  She was such a romantic! “I am not getting married so you can have your house back.”

  She made a hissing noise and then, to my shock, flames came out of her ears and her nostrils and licked up over her hair. Muttering with annoyance, she slapped the flames back down again. “Now look what you made me do!” she said in a querulous voice. They hadn’t been metaphorical flames either. They’d been real. She’d singed her own hair.

  She was really not selling herself as a roommate.

  “We don’t even know who that house is going to yet. It depends what Brenda O’Donnell’s will says. For all we know, whoever inherits it will want to keep it.”

  She cackled again. “Not when I’m finished with them.” I thought about how she had terrified me with her face leering at me from the mirror and then writing that go-away message. And she had wanted me to stay. I couldn’t imagine what she was capable of if she was trying to get rid of somebody, and I really didn’t want to find out.

  “It’s not ideal, but you must buy the house. At any rate,” the old woman said, “you’ll be quieter than that mob that’s been around there.”

  I looked at her in confusion. “What mob? Do you mean at the O’Donnell house?”

  “Aye. There have been all sorts of comings and goings. A body can barely get a wink of sleep.”

  I felt my heart speed up. I didn’t want her to know how much I cared about her information, so I kept my voice casual, skeptical even, as though I suspected she was making up stories. “Who’s been there?”

  “That skinny redhead, for a start. Creeping around the place.” That had to be Brenda O’Donnell, who had a lot more legal right to be in the O’Donnell residence than this old witch did. “And that dandy of a fellow.”

  Now she really had my attention. “What dandy of a fellow?”

  “Polished as fine as a five-pence piece, he was. And with a timepiece around his wrist that glittered. Solid gold it was. You mark my words.”

  I knew one person who fit that description. Funny how everyone noticed that fancy watch. “When did you see him?”

  At this she grew vague. “How would I know? I’m a frail, old woman with failing eyesight.”

  Okay, Biddy O’Donnell probably didn’t have the latest cell phone or digital wristwatch. “Did you see him before or after the red-haired woman died?”

  Again she seemed very vague. “And then there was a box with tiny people coming and going. Making such a racket. Worse than leprechauns, they were.”

  Suddenly I got where she’d come up with that sexy, femme fatale persona she’d put on for my benefit. “That’s called a television. And that woman you imitated was from an old movie. That’s like a play,” I explained to her. I didn’t have the time or energy to get into the whole moving pictures thing. She’d figure it out soon enough. Or, better still, she’d be back where there was no such thing.

  I wanted to press her more about what she’d seen and heard inside the O’Donnell house. It hadn’t occurred to me that she might be a terrible old witch but was also a witness to what had gone on in that house. I was about to question her further when there was a terrible shriek from upstairs. We both looked around. Sure enough, Pyewacket was missing.

  I ran up the stairs to find two furious, black familiars staring each other down. Both had their backs arched and were hissing. Pyewacket’s head had fallen to one side again, but it made her no less fierce. With that half an ear and the wonky eye, she looked like a fighter who never gives up. I was about to pick up Cerridwen when Pyewacket made an unearthly howl and, leaping into the air, threw herself, claws out, at my cat.

  I put up my hand and yelled, “Stop!” I wasn’t sure how well my magic worked on someone else’s familiar, but I was gratified when the cat froze in midair. The old witch huffed and puffed up the stairs behind me and came in just in time to see her familiar hanging in space, its jaws open in a howl of rage.

  She muttered, “No need to get angry.” Then she stomped over and plucked her familiar out of the air. I dropped the magic, and Pyewacket meowed pathetically, as though complaining that she was the victim here. Cerridwen looked at me, and one of her eyes closed all the way and opened again. I could have sworn that cat was winking at me.

  From the way Biddy O’Donnell was fussing over her familiar, I had a bit of a brainwave. I said, “Obviously, we can’t live together if our familiars can’t get along. They’re sworn enemies. So it would never work.”

  She squinted at me out of her old eyes and said, “We’ll see about that.”

  What was that supposed to mean? It sounded vaguely like a threat. Cats were territorial, familiars more so. Was she suggesting that one of us would get rid of our familiars? I decided to keep a careful eye on Cerridwen.

  It was getting late, and I told the witch I had to go to bed. I had work in the morning.

  “Very well. I bid you farewell.” And then, black cat tucked under her arm, she left by the front door. I stood at the window and watched to make sure she left. I wasn’t even the tiniest bit surprised when she grabbed a ragged, old wicker broom and, cat settled in front of her, took off into the night sky.

  Chapter 14

  The next day I was working on accounts. I couldn’t get my numbers to add up right. I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t stop thinking about my long-lost ancestor, who I really wished had stayed lost, and poor Brenda O’Donnell. Biddy O’Donnell claimed she hadn’t killed Brenda. Did I believe her? And was the old woman telling the truth? Had the fiancé come back? What was he doing in Brenda’s house when she was dead? Did he even have a legal right to be there?

  That last day, Brenda had brought me her books. I had a hunch she had also taken Karen Tate the smaller items that she’d planned to sell through Granny’s Drawers. I wondered if they’d spoken. Had Karen seen anything? I’d clear my head and pay my fellow shopkeeper a visit.

  I had discovered that it was common among local shopkeepers to just put up a sign saying we’d be back soon if we had other places to be. Few of us could afford a second employee. So I put my “back in fifteen minutes” sign up after looking both ways to make sure there was nobody headed straight for my shop. There wasn’t.

  It was a warm, sunny day, and it felt good to be outside. The bakery was still closed, and I felt a pang of sadness. The butcher was doing an excellent business, but I’d taken to avoiding it the way Sean and Rosie Higgins avoided my bookshop. Feelings were still too raw. However, Tara was outside serving coffee to a couple sitting at a table on the patio of the Cork Coffee Company. She gave me a cheerful wave as I walked by. I had to remember, not everybody hated me. I waved back and continued on. When I got to Granny’s Drawers, Kathleen McGinnis was coming out. We met on the sidewalk outside.

  “Quinn,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to come by and see you. How are you getting on?” She dropped her voice and added, “No more trouble with the yew then?”

  I shook my head. “Everything seems quiet.” I was tempted for only a moment to tell her about my visit from Biddy O’Donnell, but some instinct stopped me. I didn’t know why I felt wary of my sister witch, I only knew that I did. She looked at my face searchingly. No doubt she could tell there was something I wasn’t saying. But she didn’t push.

  “I popped in to have a good rummage through the O’Donnell family leftovers. But, would you believe it, Karen hasn’t unpacked a single box yet. Says she’s been too busy.” She shook her head. “She’ll never make much money in that shop if she doesn’t put out her stock, now will she?”

  “No. She won’t.”

  “No doubt that’s what you were after too.”

  I gave a slight laugh. “Who doesn’t like a good rummage?” At least I now had an excuse for why I was here. “Well, Karen’s seen me now, so I’d better go in.”

  “All right.
I’d best get back to my shop too. Heaven only knows what Danny will have done while I’m gone.”

  At least she had someone she could leave in charge, even if it was a doddery, old man. I would have to look into part-time help at the bookstore. Sure, it would lessen my earnings, but it would free up some time for other pursuits, such as getting rid of evil, ancient witches.

  I walked into Granny’s Drawers and was pleased to find I was the only customer in the shop. Karen Tate immediately came over. “Quinn. Good to see you.”

  “You, too.” I didn’t want to bring up the Brenda murder, hoping she would. I said, “It was so nice getting out for dinner with you the other night. We must do it again.”

  She nodded, then looked sad. “What a shame Brenda didn’t come with us that night. Now we’ll never have the chance.”

  I nodded, suitably somber. But I was pleased that she had brought up the subject. “I saw her that last day. She brought books over from her father’s collection.” I made a face. “Mostly a lot of junk, to be honest.”

  I waited. This was her chance to tell me whatever had transpired between them, but she merely nodded. “I’m not surprised. Billy had some very peculiar hobbies. He loved Roman history and Byzantine architecture, and I think he was a train-spotter.”

  She was correct. I nodded. “Also old thrillers.”

  She didn’t mention having seen Brenda that last day, but I knew she must have because I’d seen those boxes labeled all ready for her.

  “What about you?” I asked. If she wouldn’t volunteer the information, I’d go after it. “Did she have anything good for you?”

  She looked for a moment as though she didn’t know what I was talking about. Then seemed to recollect. “Oh. That old junk of her dad’s. I’ve no idea. I’ve got a few boxes upstairs, but frankly, I think most of it’s worthless.”

  That surprised me. “That bad?” I hadn’t really looked that carefully, but it had seemed to me from the stuff I’d seen crammed in the china cabinets alone that some of it had value.