“Yes.” Jackie didn’t sound like she believed him. “Well, we only stopped by for a minute. If there’s anything we can do—”
“There is. You can make sure Sarah has a job to go back to.”
“Well, now—”
“That Avery fellow still does, doesn’t he? He didn’t get fired, and the way I understand it is he went after Sarah uninvited.”
“Now, no. I spoke to Avery. Sarah asked him to meet her in the parking lot.”
I did not!
“I find that hard to believe. It doesn’t make sense that she’d have any interest in another man. Sarah and Henry were rather—close.”
Paul sounded uncomfortable saying it, and Sarah appreciated him defending her. Wait. Were close? Past tense? At least I know how to break a love spell. Go in a coma. Other than residual surprise that information didn’t bother Sarah, but neither did the unpleasant click and hiss of nearby machines she chose to ignore.
Jackie slipped into professional mode. “Mr. Longfellow, I personally saw Ms. Archer and Mr. Gross in an embrace right before the incident.”
You did not! You saw that ape manhandling me!
“If that’s the case, why is Sarah’s job in jeopardy and not Avery’s? It sounds like sexism, and frankly I’m surprised you’d allow that.”
For a moment the room got so quiet Sarah wondered if she’d passed out and come to after everyone had gone.
“I wouldn’t,” Jackie said at last. “You can be assured of that. I’m not free to discuss Mr. Gross’s situation with anyone outside the company. Suffice to say he was acting in Ms. Archer’s best interest as he understood it at the time.”
“Which wasn’t the case at all.”
“Is there any chance that Ms. Archer’s medical condition might have affected her judgement during the incident in the parking lot?”
Paul exhaled loudly. “There is every chance of that.”
He’s thinking about the spell.
“Because if there was a pre-existing medical condition—”
“There definitely was a pre-existing condition.”
“I see. I don’t know Ms. Archer well, but now that I think on it there was another incident where she came to work acting rather oddly. It was just a matter of a strange choice in clothing for the workplace, but from what I heard at the time it was unusual for her. I’m glad we had this conversation. I’m going to take care of this.”
Sarah groaned inside at the memory of the blue dress she’d thought she looked so hot in, but something in her lightened knowing Paul had gotten her job back for her.
“That would be great. Sarah loves working at Mass Power and Light.”
“Does she?” Sarah could hear the smile in Jackie’s voice. “I do too. Well, I’ll do my part for her. You make sure she gets all better now. We’ve got to get going. I’ve stayed far longer than I planned.”
“Thanks for coming, and thanks for the flowers. Sarah loves flowers.”
“One of her co-workers has been taking up a collection for them every week. I’ve never seen this many flowers anywhere outside of a florist shop.”
What? Sarah tried to force her eyes open, desperate to see them. Dammit! The one time I get flowers from other people! Inwardly she grinned, falling a bit more deeply in love with Mindy. That booger is such a liar! If there’s that many, she’s spending her own money too!
Dark matter grabbed Sarah somewhere around her middle and yanked her away.
“UT CUSTODIANT TE et seducam te et Dominum nostrum Iesum Christum in vitam aeternam.”
The droning words in Latin roused Sarah. Dark matter rocked as though laughing. Even barely conscious, she recognized the monotone chant of a priest. It lulls me back to sleep even now.
“What are you doing to her?” Paul asked. He sounded tired.
“It’s the Viaticum,” answered an old man. Sarah tried to place his vaguely familiar voice.
“What’s the Vita—viata—what’s that?”
Paul’s accent made Sarah smile inside as she attempted a translation of the Latin word “viaticum.” Money for a journey? Something like that…money for provisions?
“It’s commonly called the last rites.”
Oh, great! No!
“Isn’t that for when people die? Don’t do that to her. You said you were going to pray over her. She’s not going to die.”
“Son, just because I speak the words doesn’t mean she won’t live. That’s in God’s hands.”
Why is his voice so familiar? All the priests from Our Lady of the Light sounded the same to Sarah.
“But if she hears you, she might believe you. She probably understands Latin. Don’t say that prayer just in case.”
The priest sighed. “What did you have in mind when you called me?”
What the hell did Paul call a priest for?
“I don’t know. Except—do priests really perform exorcisms?”
Don’t you dare! Sarah tried to move, but her body wouldn’t respond. The rumbling of dark matter increased. It felt like glee.
“Not on witches, Mr. Longfellow. It wouldn’t be a good idea, and I’m not altogether certain there’d be anything left of your friend after I was done.”
It’s Father McCloud! Thank heavens! She recalled the knowing look in his faded eyes.
“You know she’s a witch?”
“Yes, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Sarah once before.”
“You did?” Paul sounded incredulous.
“Yes, I did. As I recall she owes me a shingle.”
“Oh, um. Yes. I’m sorry, I’d forgotten about that.”
“I hadn’t.”
“Father, can you tell if she’s going to be all right?”
Sarah thought she heard the priest move closer to Paul and pat his shoulder.
“Paul, I’m a priest, not a doctor. What do the doctors say?”
“Doctor Shaw tells me not to give up hope. She says miracles happen all the time.”
“I would encourage you to follow her advice.”
“It’s been a month now. Look at her.”
A month? I’ve been in the hospital for a month? It seemed like moments.
“What’s a month to a young life?”
“Can you tell—I mean, do you think the dark side has taken her?”
“That’s her decision, not yours or mine or even the other side’s,” said Father McCloud. “Likely she was promised to the darkness before conception. It’s hard for human beings not to do what’s expected of them, even when they don’t like it.”
“She doesn’t want to be a witch.”
“That’s ridiculous. She is a witch. I don’t want to be old. But here we both are.”
“So there’s no hope? She’s doomed to evil?”
“I didn’t say that. Of course there’s hope! There’s always hope.”
“But what can we do? How can I help her?”
“You’re doing it, Mr. Paul Revere. Just don’t give up. I’m afraid the rest is up to Sarah.”
The harvest moon lolled fat in the sky and October air blew leaves through the night. Sarah couldn’t see it, she couldn’t see anything, but she could feel it with her witch senses. It was the first thing she’d sensed with them since the night Kathleen had showed up at her door. According to the moon, that was six weeks ago.
Dark matter wrapped around Sarah like Smaug snuggling gold in his lair. Yet for the first time since that night, Sarah could distinguish between herself and dark matter.
That has got to be a good thing, a good sign!
Dark matter shifted, like an enormous snake wrapping tighter, its scales rippling over Sarah’s skin. After several moments it stopped and sighed, as if content and comfortable.
That, not so much.
What did Father McCloud say?
“I’m afraid the rest is up to Sarah,” echoed through her mind.
That’s not very helpful. What exactly is up to me?
Explicit instructions would have been useful. S
arah knew instinctively how to draw dark matter closer; repelling it didn’t come naturally. For the past three years all she’d done was ignore it and try to leave it alone.
The piles of books in the attic came to mind, but she knew they’d be of no use even if she could access them now.
Still, I know how to draw dark matter in. Logically, what would chase it away?
I could tell it to go. Sarah considered that for a while. Outside her body she could hear the beeping of that machine and the mechanical hiss of her breathing. And I can’t just do nothing. I have to try something!
Maybe it is as simple as telling it to go away and leave me alone.
Maybe I’ve been keeping dark matter nearby just in case I need it, like the crap in the basement.
Maybe that’s all Father McCloud meant when he said it was up to me.
Maybe Paul was right when he said I have to find other ways to get what I need.
Permanently.
Could it be as easy as a choice?
The memory of the night she’d rescinded her spell against Kathleen returned.
Other than a few brief moments of lucidity when she could hear what was happening in the outside world, all she’d been aware of had been pain.
There was pain, and then there was dark matter fiery pain.
Sarah did not fancy another go of what had already transpired. There would be nothing easy about another battle against dark matter and likely it would all be for nothing. She doubted she could survive it again. It always wins. All witches said that. Why did I think I could be any different?
Somewhere near the hissing machine, a voice whispered. “Sarah, sweetheart, if you can hear me, do something. Do anything.”
Fear vibrated through her, followed by what felt like dark matter licking her entire body with a massive tongue. For once that wasn’t a pleasant sensation. It scared her. She wanted it to go away.
If Paul is calling me sweetheart, I’m in trouble.
I’m dying.
I’m really dying. Dark matter is just waiting for me.
Sarah knew it. She hadn’t been privy to anything the doctor had said for a while, but judging by the moon it had been about six weeks since the incident.
The thought of telling dark matter to go frightened her. It’s not the pain I’m really afraid of. I’m afraid it will really go away.
What would she be without dark matter?
What was a witch with no power?
She’d have no defense against the world. Like everyone else.
I have two choices. Die with it, or live without it.
Do I want to die and join it?
“Go,” Sarah said mentally.
Nothing happened.
“Go,” she repeated inside herself, struggling to find real words, certain that dark matter slept around her, content and confident it had her. “I don’t want you! I’m never going to want you again! I don’t care what happens to me. I can survive without you!”
Or not.
Still nothing happened.
Gathering every ounce of strength she could muster, Sarah attempted to shout. It came out a weak breath of stale air as she choked on a tube lodged inside her throat, “Go.”
Like a waking volcano, dark matter exploded to life around her. In the midst of being consumed by fiery hot lava, Sarah heard Paul shouting for a doctor. He heard me! A mental image of her ears floating and sizzling in a field of molten rock and magma came to mind, and once again darkness descended.
I HAVE TO pee.
Sarah stood knee deep in the Aegean Sea with every intention of getting into deeper water and going. Aunt Lily stood beside her, topless and suntanned, one hand shading her eyes and the other clutching Sarah’s.
“You could swim here with us if you hadn’t decided to waste your life,” Lily said. “But you made your bed. Good luck sleeping in it.”
Sarah heard her mother comment from the beach, “Doesn’t look like all that schooling helped much.”
The beach vanished and Sarah sat alone inside her cubicle at Mass Power and Light, her hand aching with loneliness. She still needed to go something fierce, but now Father McCloud blocked her from exiting the cubicle.
“After you bring my shingle back,” he said.
It occurred to Sarah at that point that this was all a dream.
I need to wake up and I can go anywhere I want.
Father McCloud and her cubicle at Mass Power and Light vanished. Red light scorched beneath her eyeballs, shooting pain into her brain like lightning strikes. Sarah lay prone under a blanket that seemed to weigh as much as a building. It held her tightly against the mattress, and she couldn’t cast to escape it. Somehow it even held her eyelids closed.
Uselessly she told the blanket, “I want to get up.”
“If you cast me off, you can do what you want,” said the blanket, the top edge of it forming into a strange dark wrinkle that looked like a mouth. Sarah wondered how she could see it with her eyes closed.
“No,” she told it. “I can’t cast anymore.”
“You can. Just choose to and all will be as it should be.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Yes, you do.”
Sarah considered her options until chills rippled through her. She needed to get up, but refused to cooperate with the creepy captive.
“I have to get up.”
“You know the price.”
“I don’t need your permission,” she said.
“But you do need my help,” it told her. “You always will.”
Sarah tried to prove that wasn’t true. It didn’t work. The effort to escape her paralysis made her chills worse, and she shivered miserably beneath the blanket that gave no warmth. The blanket’s smile grew wider and darker. Sarah thought she saw dark matter shifting and swirling inside the toothless mouth.
“Get away from me! I told you to go! I’m done with dark matter!” she growled at it. “You’re part of it. I know you are. Go away!”
The smiling dark wrinkle grew wider, as if laughing. “You can’t make me leave. You can never make me leave. No one can.”
This made her mad. “Maybe not, but the light can make you move. I’ve seen it.”
“You are not the light.”
“That doesn’t mean it won’t make you leave me alone!”
“Why would it do anything for you?”
Sarah considered that. Why would it? She had nothing to bargain with. Nothing to offer.
“Do you think light is a better master?”
“I don’t care. I would choose light over you.”
The blanket snapped up into the air far above her, almost reaching the ceiling, and floated down lightly, landing softly and gently over her. The mouth looked like a smile, but not the dark one. This smile looked like a beam of sunlight.
SARAH OPENED HER eyes. Blinding bright light made them water. The light hit somewhere behind her eyeballs and she sneezed. It ripped through her body with such intensity it felt like her lungs exploded. For a moment she lay motionless and tried to recover, certain she’d at least broken a rib and sneezed a couple teeth loose. Pain spread from ribs to lungs and clawed up to her throat. Sarah willed it away, but it didn’t go. Opening her eyes again, she blinked against searing light and swallowed.
Dry agony attacked her aching throat like fingernails cutting flesh. A cross dangled in her line of vision. Henry’s necklace. The one Paul always wore.
She stared at the necklace, trying to determine if the thick neck supporting it was really Paul’s. Through blurry vision she saw the fine lines of his horse tattoo, the ends of the tail flared against his neck. Tears slipped from her eyes.
I’m alive! I’m awake!
Paul pressed his hands against her cheeks as his thumbs wiped the tears away. “Hey, there you are! Welcome back. Lord, witchy woman, I’ve missed those wild eyes of yours. You’ve been out a very long time.”
A fresh flood of tears covered his fingers.
“You’re g
oing to be okay, Sarah.” He leaned forward, pressing his head against her forehead and tenderly patting her shoulders.
Sarah reached to hug him, but her arms wouldn’t come. It felt like her weeks of wild dreaming had returned, and for a brief moment she thought she’d lost her body again.
“It’s okay!” Paul said. “They have your hands tied down so you couldn’t hurt yourself. Hold on.”
Fear shot through Sarah, and she yanked on her restraints, attempting to cast herself free. The area in her center that she’d cast from all of her life, felt dry and empty, like a hose filled with nothing but air. I have no power. Nothing.
“Don’t panic. Come on, you’re pulling your IV out.”
“Untie me!” Sarah struggled, kicking her legs which were wonderfully free. She focused on the restraints on her hands, willing them off, willing the pain away from her body. Nothing changed.
“Sarah, please. Trust me. I’ll get you loose,” Paul whispered, his cheek now pressed against hers.
Her chin wobbled with emotion. It wasn’t about being tied down. It was being helpless. It was the pain. I feel everything. She tried again to will her pain away. I don’t like feeling everything! “I hurt,” she whimpered. I’m scared! Saying that out loud would make it worse, but Paul knew. Sarah saw it in his eyes. His brown eyes were every bit as beautiful as Henry’s, but there was a sadness in them Henry’s didn’t have. A few more errant tears slid down her cheeks. Is this what it’s like for people? I don’t know how to do this.
Paul went to work on the band of a leather cuff wrapped around Sarah’s left wrist. “If the doctor walks in and catches me doing this, you’ll have to bail me out of jail again.”
Sarah smiled through her tears, but it trembled.
“There was a big car wreck or they’d be in here already. Actually they thought it would take you longer to regain consciousness. You’ve only been off the ventilator since yesterday. Does it hurt to breathe?”
“Everything hurts.”
Paul got the buckle loose and rubbed her wrist. It erased the feeling of the horrible cuff. Sarah lifted her freed arm and gave Paul a one-armed hug.
“Thank you for being here,” she cried, feeling like a baby. She wished she had some pride left, but it was gone. She’d never been so afraid in her life.
Bitch Witch Page 16