The sheriff smiled but shook his head gently, “I’m in the middle of an investigation not a social. I reckon the grapevine will travel swiftly if we learn of anything of much import though. I try to underline the importance of not leaking information to the public, but it’s a fact of life that people gossip. The more interesting the tidbit, the more likely the entire town will know it by morning.”
“Well, thanks for stopping by.” Izzy felt awkward but the sheriff didn’t seem bothered by it. He lifted his hand in farewell and exited, leaving Izzy to close the door behind him.
Izzy twisted the knob for the lock then turned her head back toward Cass.
“Someone’s been holding out on me. You got any other secrets you want to share?”
CHAPTER FIVE
Izzy
Eyes closed and hands folded across her mid-section, Cass dozed on the blanket she and Izzy had spread earlier for their picnic. Izzy sat a few feet away enjoying the quiet of the meadow’s edge.
Cass, she noted, was a study in contrasts. Short dark brown hair tipped red on the ends for fun accentuated the soft caramel brown of her complexion. Plump cheeks and a wide smile bespoke of youth and innocence but they belied the deviltry lurking in her eyes. Izzy wished she could draw, capture the impish essence of her friend.
Warmth on her skin from the sun distracted Izzy and had her reaching for the aloe she always carried in her bag. Izzy envied her friend’s darker complexion. Cass rarely burned while Izzy was a cautionary tale about what happened when you didn’t wear sunscreen.
Earlier in the day, after the sheriff left, she and Izzy agreed they needed to get away if only for an hour or two. His questions or in Izzy’s mind, interrogation, had rattled them both. She hoped her impulsive attack didn’t cause him to think worse of witches or their coven.
Izzy nudged her friend with her foot. “Were you going to tell me?”
“Tell you what?” Cass mumbled. The remnants of their picnic were still partially scattered on the blanket around them. Stress caused Cass to overeat. That and fried chicken they had picked up on the drive out had been amazingly good. Judith’s Eats, the popular diner they stopped at, was known for her fried chicken and veggies. Everything had been beyond exceptional. Cass groaned and rubbed her stomach.
“You know what.” Izzy’s irritation crept into her voice.
“Winifred can be mean, you know that.”
“So can I,” Izzy countered.
Cass opened her eyes enough to make sure Izzy saw her roll them. “Please. You are the un-meanest person I know. You let spiders live, and you hate spiders.”
“My personal preferences shouldn’t mean the taking of a life,” Izzy crossed her arms. “Anyhow you’re changing the subject. You keeping that information to yourself is a direct violation of the code, and you know it.”
“We were kids,” Cass argued her case, even knowing she was in the wrong.
“Regardless, a code is a code,” Izzy rubbed her chin in thought. “Hmm, if I remember correctly, this means I get a boon.”
“Whatever,” Cass sounded apathetic, but she would gladly give her friend anything she wanted if it made this conversation go away. Within reason, of course.
“What do you want?”
“I think I want...” Izzy’s voice trailed off as she saw a crow sitting on a branch nearby. Two crows in a week seemed unusual. Especially when those crows were watching you. “Hello,” she offered to see how the bird would react.
The crow didn’t show any sign of acknowledgment. Izzy didn’t know what she had expected, but his gaze remained firmly in her direction. Fixed. She peered around to see if maybe there was a mouse or other vermin nearby. The thought made her squeamish.
“Well, go on then. If you’re not going to let me know what you want.”
Cass cleared her throat and Izzy glanced down.
“You’re the one wanting a boon. Not me.” Cass reminded her.
“Not you,” Izzy gestured toward the bird. “Him, that’s the second one this week. They just watch me and watch me. It’s giving me the creeps.”
“Riiighttt…” Cass agreed.
A squat man no more than a few feet tall climbed around the tree and leaned against its base. He was almost as broad as he was high with a thick, unkempt beard and large bulbous nose. Enormous, wiry eyebrows almost covered his small beady eyes. There wasn’t an inch of him or his tattered clothing not coated liberally with dirt. Izzy noted he strongly resembled the man she’d seen in Maeve’s garden as well.
“He watches because you’re marked.”
“Marked? What do you mean ‘Marked’?” Izzy didn’t question having a conversation with the odd man. Her focus was on his words and what he meant instead.
“I mean you’re Marked. You glow. Well, to any Other you do.” He didn’t shift his stance at all. The bird above and the man leaning against the tree watched and waited, their positions almost identical.
“Is he your bird then?”
“What are you blathering on about?” Cass erupted. It was clear by her expression that she was certain her friend had lost it.
“Look, over there by the tree, you see him, don’t you?” Izzy pointed to where the little man stood. Cass pushed herself up on one arm and shielded her eyes with the other hand.
“I see a tree,” she paused and squinted. “And I see a crow.” She looked over at Izzy with a hopeful glance. “But, I do not see a man, Iz. You having a reaction to the potato salad? Mom says the heat can make the mayo in it go rancid fast.” She put her hand back to her stomach. “Ohh, I think you’re right. I don’t feel so good.”
“I feel fine. Knock it off!”
Izzy turned back to the man who was still leaning on the tree. She tried another tack. “Didn’t I see you earlier at my friend’s house?”
It was hard to tell with his massive beard and eyebrows, but it appeared she had offended him somehow. His eyes had almost disappeared behind all the hair. The scrunching of his eyes making the rosy skin of his cheeks lift.
“Oh, you’re one of those, huh? We all look alike. I get it. Just because I’m small doesn’t make me less of a gnome.”
Izzy’s eyes widened. “Of course not! Certainly not! Completely my bad. So,” she didn’t want to misspeak and offend him again, she asked tentatively, “You’re a gnome?”
“Yes. What of it?”
“Nothing, nothing at all. I just didn’t know you existed. I had always kind of thought you were a fairy tale of sorts.”
“Fairy? Do I look like a blitherin’ fairy? I should leave you to it. Let you figure everything out yourself, I should.”
Cass nudged Izzy, her look cautious. “You really think you’re talking to someone?”
“I am speaking with someone,” Izzy corrected. She turned back to the gnome. “Throw a rock at her, please. Maybe that will knock some sense into her.”
The gnome appeared affronted. “I will certainly not throw a rock. Rocks are precious.”
Izzy sighed. “Can you do something to show her I’m not a loon? Anything? And why can’t she see you anyway?”
The little man shrugged. “It’s like I said, you’re Marked.” He looked about on the ground and gathered several pieces of pine straw, weaving them with expert skill. Within moments, he had crafted a missile looking object. “Tell her to watch.”
“Cass, look over by the tree. He’s going to do something so you can see him.”
“Oh, all right. But promise me, when we get back to town, we’re getting you some help.”
“I’m not crazy,” Izzy refused to agree. She pointed back toward the tree, “Just watch.”
From the base of a tree, a small pine straw missile launched. Its aim clear and true. It hit Cass right between the eyes.
“What the hell?!”
Izzy crossed her arms, her expression smug. “I told you.”
“I need to go,” her visitor announced.
“Wait, I have questions. Lots of questions,” Izzy shouted
, trying to stall him.
He pointed to his right. “By the third tree, on the ground. You need to look and see. Your friend’s death shouldn’t be in vain.”
“My friend? Are we talking about Edith?”
That got Cass’ attention. “What about Edith?”
“Look to the ground. Touch it. You’ll see.” He pushed away from the tree. “I need to go,” he said again.
“Wait! What’s your name? What will I see?”
“In time, it will all make sense. Come around again, and maybe we’ll talk. And it’s Hanzbag. My name that is. Enjoy your afternoon in the woods. And don’t forget to look at the ground.”
Izzy stood and made several steps in his direction. But for as small as he was, he was equally as fast. It was like he had disappeared into thin air. Then, she heard his voice one last time. Faint, yet distinct, “Look to the ground.”
“What is going on?” Cass demanded.
Izzy ignored her friend and walked to the tree where Hanzbag had stood. She glanced around but there was nothing there. Not a single bit of proof that he wasn’t from her imagination except for the missile he’d made for Cass. She looked up to the branch where the bird perched. The crow still sat in its vigil. His head bent down, watching.
“Look to the ground, he said,” Izzy repeated, counting the trees as she went. On the third tree, she stopped and looked down. Ground, black and appearing singed in spots decorated the base of the tree. No grass or plant remained, not even the pine straw.
“Well, I’ll just be damned.”
CHAPTER SIX
Gideon
Several days later, across town, a gentleman strode up to the door of Maeve’s small cottage. The heat of summer had not deterred him from arriving fully turned out in an impeccably tailored, black single-breasted suit. Not a speck of dust, fuzz or hair dared to muss the black surface of the cloth. If feeling generous, his face could be described as chiseled. Tall and lean, time had left its imprint on his visage. A light shadow of hair on his unshaven chin masked his gauntness somewhat. One wouldn’t be too off the mark if they wondered if he’d recently been ill. For he had, it just wasn’t an illness in the usual sense. Yet, his eyes exuded strength and determination.
His brisk knock on the front door made a hollow thump against what he assumed was a wooden surface. After a few moments, with no sounds from the interior hinting at someone coming, he rapped again with more force. As soon as he heard the telltale clatter of her shoes on the floor as Maeve strode toward the door, he stepped back.
One eye spied him through the small opening as the door creaked open less than an inch.
“Yes?” Suspicion laced her one-word inquiry.
“Mrs. Matheson?” The gentleman peered down at a piece of paper in his hand as if confirming he used the correct name. However, he knew exactly who he was visiting. “Maeve Matheson?”
“Who are you?”
“I have reached the right house, have I not?” the man insisted.
“I’m not answering your questions until you answer mine,” Maeve’s strong voice interwoven with a weak truth spell lashed out from the door’s opening. Gideon suppressed his humor as he batted the bewitchment away with a twitch of his finger.
“No need for alarm, Ms. Matheson.” His voice all but purred. “If you could just give me a moment of your time, I can explain.”
“Say your peace, and be gone. This door isn’t opening any wider until I know who you are.”
“Absolutely. I completely understand. And, my sincerest apologies. My name is Gideon. Gideon Freestone. I’ve come from the council.”
Maeve’s eyes widened at his announcement. “The council?” Her eyes shrunk to a mere squint as she tested him. “What council?”
“Yes, ma’am. I believe you are familiar with us? The Southeastern Council of Witches?” He paused to let that sink in. “I’m the acting President, I’m afraid. I’ve come hoping you can help us.”
Horror, quickly masked, flashed across Maeve’s face followed by a radiant smile as she flung the door wide. Gideon stared on with delight as she fretted with her shirt. His pleasure only heightened as her mental tussle became more apparent. Unprepared for a visit from someone of his stature, Maeve stood in the door at a loss on how to behave. “Oh! Yes, yes, of course. I am so sorry,” she pressed a hand down her shirt as if ironing it. “I’m not dressed for company. Do come in.”
After closing the door behind him, she gestured toward her small living space. The newspaper covering most of the couch was the first victim to her wrath. She wadded it up, stuffing it into a nearby trash can. Next, she returned and slapped the cushions into obedience. Dust flew high into the air at her actions then lazily made their way back down as Gideon watched. The matching pillows suffered the same treatment as the cushions.
“Please make yourself at home,” Maeve gestured towards the sofa. “I need just a moment to change. I wasn’t expecting anyone today.”
Not allowing a smidgeon of his distaste for her uncleanliness to show, Gideon forced himself to sit after she was done. “Take your time,” he interjected. “I’m the one being rude. Showing up unannounced and uninvited. I’ll be happy to wait until you’re more comfortable.”
“You’re ever so kind.”
With the room to himself, Gideon examined his sparse surroundings. Her furniture was a mishmash of items. Nothing relating to the other as if she’d collected them as cast offs from friends. The couch was well-worn, sporting several holes in the cloth from regular use. A chair sitting in tandem to where he sat appeared to be about the same age. Its leather cracked and weathered, most likely from the sun which beat down relentlessly through the window just above where it rested. The shag carpet screamed of a bygone era. Its golden yellow color against the green of the worn sofa told him Maeve was either frugal with her money or she had none. Not that it mattered. Money was not why he came.
Less than five minutes passed and the perfume Maeve had doused on herself preceded her into the room several steps before her. She had exchanged her stained gardening trousers and loose top for a dress covered in bright red flowers. Lipstick had been smeared across her lips, and her hair had been tamed into a severe bob. A woman’s magic never ceased to amaze him.
“Lovely as a picture.” Gideon politely stood for her arrival.
“Oh,” Maeve waved away his compliments. “You’re too kind, and I’ve been rude. Can I get you anything? A cold drink, coffee?” She gestured toward the kitchen. “It truly wouldn’t be but a moment and not a bother at all.”
“Don’t go to any trouble on my account.”
“Not at all. Let me set some coffee brewing. I can even get some cookies out if you’d like.” She called out over her shoulder as she’d already passed through the living area into the kitchen. “Do you like lemon cookies?” she shouted.
“Coffee will be fine, thanks.”
With the coffee started, she hurried back to the sofa while she waited for it to brew. “Now, to what do I owe this honor?”
“The honor is all my mine,” Gideon insisted. “The Council is hoping you can help us. We’ve had some,” he paused for a moment, “setbacks, shall we say,” He watched her to gauge her receptiveness.
“Of course,” Maeve pressed her hands fully into her lap to contain her excitement. She couldn’t wait to tell everyone in the coven that she, not Agnes, had been contacted by the council. All those busybodies that kowtowed to her every whim. Now, it was her turn for a few accolades. “I’ll be more than happy to help the Council in any way I can.”
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear that.” The metal cap of her percolator clanged from the kitchen.
“The coffee’s ready. Excuse me, just a minute. I’ll get that and set us up. I’ll be right back.”
Maeve beamed from ear to ear as she poured the drink and gathered sugar and cream in case he took either of those with his coffee. “Are you sure you wouldn’t care for a cookie?”
“No, no,” Gi
deon insisted from the couch. He despised the niceties required to fulfill his goal, but Maeve was the perfect ‘in’ to the coven’s inner circle. “Just the coffee.”
Maeve set the tray of coffee, cups, and extras on the table between them. The hot, rich brew steamed from the pot as she poured. He eschewed the milk and sugar as he considered them for those too weak to appreciate coffee on its own. A smirk lifted his lips as Maeve stirred sugar and creamer into her own.
Settling back in her chair, Maeve inquired, “Now, how can I help?”
“I’m glad you’re so receptive. I do have some rather distressing news.” Maeve leaned forward and rested her cup on the table, focusing on Gideon’s words. “Someone is attacking the Council. One by one. Magdalene, our leader before I took over, was the third council member in as many months to die of unexplained means.
Maeve gasped. “Die? Three of the council members gone? What happened?”
Gideon took a sip of his coffee as he chose just what to reveal. “We’re not sure. Alcide, he was the first to go. At first glance, it appeared he’d had a heart attack. No one questioned a thing.” Gideon paused to make sure he had Maeve’s complete attention. Braced forward in her seat, she was all but dangling on his every word.
“Go on,” she urged.
“Celestine was next. We thought she’d died in her sleep. She was getting on up in years. Again, we just thought the coincidence was heart-breaking, but no one was alarmed.” He set the cup down and scooted toward Maeve. “Magdalene, however, she was face down in the dirt, less than a hundred yards from her back door. Whoever or whatever was chasing her, just let her there. Doctors say her heart was in excellent shape. No rhyme or reason was given for her death.”
“Oh my goodness! That is horrible! Those poor people,” Maeve pressed her hand to her chest. “I don’t understand though. How can I help?”
Marked: Thoth's Legacy ~ Book One Page 5