Sekhet

  “Would it kill you to call me Mom?” Lucy groaned, as Dot let her shoulders fall ever so slightly, heaving a dog-tired intake of breath.

  “Yes,” was all Molly replied, much to her own secret amusement.

  “Now, now,” Dot chuffed.

  “You said to come,” Molly said lightly, watching as Dot’s face went through more than one emotion. “So here I am.”

  “We weren’t expecting you so soon,” Dot said, “but we’ve glad you’re here. Right, ladies?”

  “Well, good,” Molly smiled, ignoring the fact that, clearly, whatever she had just walked straight into was something that had obviously been purposely kept from her.

  One by one, the women came up to Molly, saying hello and good day in the same breath, making appropriate and weird excuses. “I have a hair appointment.” “The kids are due home from school for lunch.” “I think I left the iron on.” Valid, but not for these women; the woman who had a hair appointment wore a wig.

  “Tell me, what’s going on?” Trying not to sound overly demanding, Molly looked from Lucy to Dot.

  “Are you hungry?” Dot asked.

  “Grandma!”

  “Of course you must be.” Patting her granddaughter’s arm, Dot trotted toward the back door with a jump in her step, which Molly hadn’t seen since discovering her dealings with black magic.

  “Grandma! Stop!” Molly called after her, only to have Lucy halt her in her tracks.

  “Molly, leave her be,” Lucy whispered.

  “Tell me what is going on!” uttered Molly, trying to step out from behind Lucy who was still blocking her way.

  “Not now.”

  “Lucy!”

  “Really, Molly? Is it really so hard?” Lucy asked, her voice holding the slightest of distress on the matter of being on first name basis with her only child.

  “Tell me what is going on,” Molly insisted.

  “Not now,” Lucy whispered again, glancing in the direction of her mother, who had not only taken up a position inside the house by the window, watching them, and to Molly’s shock, appeared to be casting.

  “What the…?” Fear laced Molly’s words as alarm bells rang loud and clear in her head.

  “I said not now.” Lucy barked, growing tired of being ignored.

  “You might as well tell me. You know I will find out. “It’s bad, isn’t it? Tell me what has happened?” Hearing a plea for information in her own voice, Molly cringed but didn’t care. “Tell me where Veronica is. And Natasha.” Molly had a horrible fear this had something to do with Sekhet.

  “Veronica left Twisp half a year ago,” replied Lucy, stepping away from Molly and heading toward the house. The she stopped and turned around. “Veronica moved to a small town just beyond the Montana state line last fall. If you’d come home more often, you’d know.”

  “Montana? Whatever is she doing there?”

  “Casting spells,” Lucy answered matter-of-factly, as if this was an everyday, normal thing to do.

  “Where is Natasha?”

  “Natasha left this morning for Montana, because Veronica isn’t answering her phone.”

  “What?”

  “They had a falling out,” Lucy continued, “so I don’t think Veronica will appreciate Natasha driving six-hundred miles and turning up on her doorstep, just because she’s not answering her phone. But it’s not any of my doing.”

  “So whose doing is it?” Molly asked, frightened her friends.

  “The Sisterhood is beginning to grow weary of Veronica’s secrecy, which is the reason they are sending Natasha to talk to her in person.”

  Lucy went inside, closing the kitchen door behind her.

  CHAPTER 9

  Not Interested

  When Molly thought of Veronica, she envisioned her sitting straight-backed in her chair, coffee in hand, with the local newspaper, flipping from beginning to end through the ads that held no interest, but she looked at them, nevertheless.

  The pleasures of being an unemployed college graduate, living in a small town where everyone perceived her as being a little on the eccentric side, were not to be overlooked. As much as Molly liked Veronica, she would never be able to give up her job at the bookstore and just sit at home like that. There had to be something else going on.

  Veronica, in Montana, was happy. She dressed as she deemed appropriate for her mood, colored her hair whatever shade the season called for, and refused to eat anything with a face. The local butcher made an effort to scowl in her direction on every instance, and while Veronica smiled in amusement, it had begun to irritate her somewhat.

  What had happened between Veronica and Natasha was that when Natasha had visited Veronica, just after she had moved, Natasha had learned that Veronica was planning to cast a spell over the butcher’s head, and that had been the cause of the falling between Molly’s two friends. Choosing not to report Veronica to the Council was still something Natasha fought with herself about. Not that she wished to see the poor butcher electrocuted.

  Not only had Veronica carried out her plan, she had actually begun to practice casting small spells, using her neighbor, Michael Rose, to test how she was doing. Veronica had a certain fondness for Michael. On the other hand, she was truly captivated by how spells could work on human beings.

  Animals were pretty resilient, as she had found out from experience. They were also less skittish, which surprised her. Of course, under no circumstances had she ever harmed any of the dogs or horses during her little experiments; Veronica did see fit to cast a calming spell, once her observations were taken, leaving the participants, to a certain extent, relaxed and feeling young. A transformation of sorts, if only temporary.

  In addition to being beautiful, Veronica was smart, with a skill quite unique – she could turn an object inside out, including a person, if she put her mind to it. Veronica had the mind of a witch with an odd purpose – birds, rodents, and sometimes, on that rare occasion, even a bear, could be resurfaced in the most preposterous of places.

  As Molly had been driving to Twisp, Natasha was already headed for Montana. Typing the address into her GPS, Natasha learned that Veronica lived far outside a small town. Natasha drove above the speed limit by five miles per hour. Or sometimes more. In her eyes, the speed limit was a suggestion, not a mandatory order. On the highway, she was a polite driver. Driving like a Seattle city slicker did not serve the same function everywhere. City impatience held no place in small-town living, where people allowed others to pull out or park without being screamed at for taking too long.

  As she drove toward Montana, Natasha remembered how Veronica had once resurfaced a bear in the cabin of the hunter who had seized the opportunity to hunt and kill the fine specimen for ego’s sake. The hunter had been found mauled, left in his own blood, dead. Veronica had heard him crying for help that never came. She could have helped, of course, but decided to give him as much help as he had given the bear. She had walked away as his calls went unanswered, until complete silence fell heavily upon her shoulders, coupled with the air surrounding her. A decision that, to this day, that haunted her dreams, although she would deny that fact.

  To make up for her rashness, Veronica had spent a year bringing new life to whatever animals crossed her path. Road-kill, others who died of natural causes. And to the shock and horror of the Sisterhood – who had without hesitation intervened – Veronica had made a decision to resurrect an elderly woman who had passed away from stage three cancer. Her heartbroken husband of forty years had been left bellowing with loud sobs for all to hear.

  Her intention: to stay below the radar, sneak into the funeral home, and bring the old sweetheart back into the land of the living. The only downside was, she had never given a human the gift of new life, and the truth was, not everything Veronica did worked out as it was supposed to, sometimes leaving her to re-kill what had been raised from the dead. Natasha knew it had been this that had led Veronica to make her impulsive jump into the wilderness of Montana.

 
; While she understood Veronica’s reasoning concerning the move, Natasha was still left having to wonder exactly how her friend intended to keep from drawing attention to herself. In the city, nobody gave a shit. If you wished to change the direction the wind was blowing to save your hair from being messed up, or stop the rain falling on your head, or use a slight flicker of your fingers to make a dog come to you, it was possible. In Veronica’s small town, everyone would notice everything.

  As she drove, Natasha mulled over the best way to approach Veronica. She was worried that Veronica would not speak to her, but she was more worried that Veronica would not be able to speak to her, that something bad had happened. She decided that the best thing to do was to take a peace offering, and what did Veronica love more than food? Nothing.

  Natasha had been here only once before, in the fall, not long after Veronica had moved here – when Natasha had found out about the spell on the butcher. The leaves had left piles of enflamed scarlet, buttery yellows, and auburn delights in mounds along the narrow roadsides. Others were falling in the wind.

  Natasha had actually stopped her car and stood in the middle of the road, her hands stretched high in order to grasp the fluttering leaves. To feel and sense the journey from that first breath of spring to this carpet of golden red; an almost romantic thought – their last minutes, contributing nutrients to the soil where they fall, flooding the dirt with nature’s glory, then back into their mother tree for yet another winter braced against wind and snow.

  Autumn was Natasha’s favorite time of year. Now, everything was lush with spring, with green, with promise. Leaving the local bakery loaded down with freshly baked bread, blueberry tarts and a pecan pie, plus Veronica’s favorite, chocolate-covered, cream-filled donuts (which Natasha hid in the car, for now), Natasha drove out into the country, searching for Veronica’s house. By the time she found the house, she was exhausted. If Veronica wanted to be left alone, she had certainly chosen the right area.

  Even so, Natasha had to wonder why Veronica had insisted on being so far from civilization. Natasha was going to do her best to do what the Sisterhood had sent her to do – persuade her friend to return with her.

  Natasha had practiced what she was going to say. She would remind Veronica how the two of them were be the enforcers of the Sisterhood. At least, they used to be, before Veronica went off the radar. Now, with times changing and young witches often in danger, Veronica would have no choice but to take up her place once again. That’s what Natasha was going to say. If Veronica would even open the door. If Veronica didn’t tell her to get lost. And not in those exact words.

  Natasha had to laugh to herself at the very thought of old Dot’s face once, when Veronica had very calmly told her where she could shove her demands, leaving Dot with a distaste for Veronica’s abilities. Natasha had been left suffering a sense of jealousy creeping its icy fingers up along her backbone, leaving goose bumps in its wake.

  Slowing to a stop directly outside of the house, Natasha got out and stood there, pausing to take it all in. Its large, white, double-glazed windows, the emerald green front door displaying a wreath of glorious spring flowers, a riot of color, which she was sure Veronica had created. The raised herb garden. But what took Natasha’s breath away, last autumn and again now, were the rolling hills at the rear, which gave the impression of journeying to the ends of the earth and even then, never coming to a halt.

  “Natasha!”

  The voice was music! “Hey, Ronny!”

  The two clung together like they could never be torn apart again.

  Tears in her eyes, finding her voice, Natasha said, “You always smell like roses.”

  “It’s only a cheap perfume, nothing to write home about,” Veronica laughed, waving her hand in dismissal.

  Turning away to steal a long breath, deliberating over how she was going to address the motive behind her visit, Natasha said lamely, “So, how have you been?”

  “Cut the crap, Natasha, I know why you are here.”

  “Dot is on the war path.”

  “So you came all the way here to tell me Dot is upset? She must really need something.” Veronica turned quickly, starting to make her way back into the house. “Come on, I’ll make you lunch. Or I guess it’s more like time for dinner, isn’t it?”

  “Wait ‘til you see what I’ve brought,” Natasha said, opening her car door to retrieve the bakery goodies.

  How she felt when Natasha was around never got any easier for Veronica. Her inward, excited contempt on seeing Natasha arrive had been overwhelming. Yet, when they had embraced, all that had melted away. Time had melted away. Hurt feelings had disappeared. “You always smell of roses.” The words cut deep, wounding her show of defiance. A cheap perfume she went out of her way to find this time every year, since that very first night. Natasha had complimented her so many times about the sweet smell, it made her giggle every time she purchased the damn stuff.

  ***

  Night was arriving with the coldness of mountain air.

  Natasha asked about the Glossaries. Veronica said she had burned them.

  If only Natasha would go to sleep. She must be exhausted from the long drive.

  The path at the back of the house needed to be cleared, where the walkway from the backdoor led to the shed that contained most of the belongings that held no place in Veronica’s new life. A notion of burning them had never came to mind, for no matter how much Veronica longed for a normal life, destroying her Glossaries would never happen.

  Sneaking out the backdoor in the dark, Veronica moved across the walkway leading to the locked door, not that she needed a key to get in, but for others, it showed the need for one. Whispering under her breath, she watched as the lock snapped open with a clink, leaving her to remove it quietly. Entering what even now was her sanctuary, she couldn’t help but draw in a prolonged breath. The smell of old pages and the latest batch of fresh drying herbs was intoxicating.

  “You do know if you do anything stupid, we both will be in trouble, right?”

  Veronica jumped!

  Natasha’s voice had sounded louder than she meant it to be, in the stillness of the night.

  Placing her hand over her heart in a dramatic display, Veronica replied, “What the hell are you doing? I’m not interested, and you shouldn’t have wasted your time coming here. You can stay tonight, but I want you to leave in the morning.”

  Veronica’s words left Natasha with her mouth hanging open, feeling like she’d been knocked off her feet. Regaining her composure, she said, “You and I have a job to do, Ronny, whether it interests you or not.”

  “Not anymore.”

  ***

  Lying awake in Veronica’s spare bedroom, Natasha was restless, trying to decide if she should get up and go tell Veronica what would happen if she continued to ignore the demands of the Council. Eventually someone would come looking, bringing an offer, or a torch and a bad ending.

  In the chill night air, memories of a vacation in Juneau, Alaska with Molly came to mind and Natasha shivered. She remembered landing in Juneau, following two flight changes, and a pilot she finally decided knew what he was doing. She and Veronica had been disagreeing about every little thing. She knew they were driving Molly crazy.

  For hours, Natasha had observed mountaintops from her seat by the window, which brought back memories of watching Alive and knowing, as much as it may be great to survive such a fate, eating the man in the opposite aisle who had been picking his nose for a good ten minutes, did nothing for her stomach, as she dry-heaved at the thought.

  The airport was the smallest one she had ever been in, with the exception of Walla Walla, but that place had great smoothies. This one didn’t seem to have anything in the slightest. She remembered how Veronica greeted the stuffed polar bear at the door, sending him an apology for not having the ability to grant him with the gift of life.

  Less than an hour later, while welcoming Mother Nature’s natural surroundings in the shape of whales promi
sed by the captain of the boat they hired for the day, her excitement had transformed to panic when she learned that three witches from Seattle had not returned from a girl’s getaway to this very location! Supposedly they had met some locals at a bar. And that was the last anyone had seen of them.

  Jumping out of her bed in a rush of blankets and determination, Natasha raced down the hall, barreling through Veronica’s bedroom door, declaring she was accompanying Natasha back to Twisp, end of story. Without another word, before Veronica could argue her case, Natasha turned on her heel and stalked back to her own room, shutting the door with a loud thud.

  Leaning back against the cool wood of the door, Natasha took two breaths, counting the seconds before Veronica made her own way down the hallway. She never did come.

  Natasha crawled into bed. Deep down, she was disappointed.

  After what seemed hours, she finally fell into a soundless sleep.

  The tree overhead made a creaking noise as the wind grew substantially, making her shiver inside her white cloak with the embroidery lining the inside left underarm.

  Each sister witch had a color; hers was gold for new beginnings, incorporating her inner being with Mother Nature in the early hours of All Hallows Eve. The fire had burned high for hours, the leaping flames changing colors throughout the night. It had been a long time since she had seen everyone.

  Things were confusing, only now, as she reached out toward the flames, everything was becoming surprisingly clear. Her lips were soft, understanding, welcoming with no remorse. Tongues caressed each other in a dance of cranberry and bitter blueberries.

  The kiss made her shiver, forcing the heat that had begun to form in the pit of her stomach to travel downwards into a place best left alone in times of want.

  Finding her feet, she took the necessary steps, not faltering for a second. Standing directly in front of her, she allowed her eyes to rest on Veronica’s mouth, the shape of it, the slight bluish tint from the chilled air, and again, she wanted to taste the sweetness.