"Oh, goodness," she said. "I do love a man in uniform." She pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned off the engine, while quickly checking her appearance in the rear view mirror. She reached over to the back of the vehicle and snatched her bag off the seat. Digging into her handbag, she retrieved her peach lip-gloss and applied a fresh coat. Next she found a bottle of perfume, and gave it a quick squirt before leaning into the flowery mist floating in the vehicle.
Andrew coughed and waved his arms around. He shook his head, thinking about how alike Kat and her aunt were. "Seriously," he said. "Do you really think that's going to work?"
"Watch and learn, young Jedi apprentice."
Andrew shook his head again, and sank lower into his seat.
A young officer dressed in a crisp police uniform swung his leg over his motorcycle and walked towards the vehicle, a flashlight in his hand. As he approached, Mindy wound down the window and smiled up at him sweetly.
"Did you know you were speeding, ma'am?" he asked, sweeping the flashlight and his eyes carefully over the vehicle before turning back to her.
"Was I?" she replied, a look of surprise crossing her face. She looked across at Andrew, who just folded his arms and shrugged.
"Can I see your licence, ma'am?" he asked indifferently.
"Absolutely," Mindy replied, turning on the small overhead light and fishing around in her bag. A few moments later, she handed him her licence. "There you go, officer."
The officer studied the licence with the flashlight for a moment, then looked down at Mindy. "Did you know this licence expired ten years ago, ma'am?"
Andrew shot up straight in his seat. "What?"
Mindy held the officer's gaze. "Actually, the licence is new. I should probably just move along. And just so you know, I don't have any plans next weekend, and please call me Mindy."
The officer handed the expired licence back to Mindy. "That's fine, Mindy. I'm sorry to have bothered you. How about I make it up to you by taking you out to dinner next weekend ... if you don't have any other plans, that is."
Mindy wrote her number down on a piece of paper from her bag and handed it to him. "That sounds lovely. I'd love to."
The officer pocketed the piece of paper and gave her a wink. "You will be hearing from me, Mindy."
"Goodnight, officer," Mindy said, winding up her window.
A few moments later the officer was swinging a long leg over his motorcycle, giving Mindy a nod and a smile as he sped past.
"And that, Jedi apprentice, is how it's done in the witch circle," she said triumphantly to Andrew, who sat open-mouthed and staring at her in an equal measure of surprise and awe.
Eventually he found his voice and spoke. "There has to be a law against that."
Mindy flicked off the overhead light and turned the key in the ignition. "I'm sure there is," she smiled, pulling the car back onto the street without looking.
Andrew scowled at her. "Oh, and I thought you said you had a licence."
"I do have a licence," Mindy retorted.
"Yes, an expired licence, not a current one, so that doesn't count."
Mindy shrugged. "Now you're just splitting hairs."
"Well, just so you know. I'm driving the car home."
Mindy shrugged again. "Please yourself."
Chapter 11 – Be Still My Beating Heart.
Carmen paced back and forth across the cold stone floor of the dungeon, an underground room that had been used as a cellar in the 1700s for the Lancaster winery. Six flaming torches in sconces lined the walls, illuminating the damp-smelling room. Long fingers of cobwebs dangled ghostlike from long rows of timber racks. Empty of wine bottles, they had been forgotten about long ago. Agitated, Carmen walked in long, determined strides, her long black skirts sweeping the floor soundlessly behind her. In her hand, she held a long, knotted switch from a birch tree, which had been lacquered with poison from the bloodthorn flower. "I'll ask you one more time, girl. Who sent you to pretend to be a waitress so you could spy on me? Which clan do you belong to?"
The blond girl, who was dishevelled and weak from previous lashings, was chained by the wrists and ankles to the side of the dank dungeon. Her long blond curls, now damp and limp, clung to her face, neck, and arms. Frail and tired, she had lost her defiant attitude a day ago when, kicking and screaming, Henry had dragged her down to the dungeon at Carmen's request. Now, a day later, she was barely hanging onto life by a quickly unravelling thread.
"I've told you a thousand times already," the pretty girl pleaded, tears running down her cheeks. "Nobody sent me. I just moved here and I saw the job advertised in the paper. I just needed a job. I don't know anything about any witch clans," Matilda sobbed, her wrists and ankles bleeding from the rusty manacles restraining her.
"Liar," Carmen screeched, the coiled gold snake on her arm hissing. Poison from the bloodthorn flower burned into the girl's flesh as the switch slashed across her pretty, tear-streaked face. "You're a lying little witch. Now tell me which clan you belong to. Who sent you?" Carmen's hand came down again and again, whipping the girl’s face, throat and arms. Red, burning welts, beading with poison, rose across the girl's glistening, blood-soaked flesh.
Matilda screamed in pain as the poison leached into her bloodstream and raced along her veins.
"Scream as loud as you want," Carmen screamed in anger and frustration, rather than in pain. "No one will hear you down here. You could die and rot down here, the rats could feed on you, and no one would be any the wiser. So scream, if that's what you want to do, until you are hoarse, or you could speak to me, tell me who sent you!"
Matilda's head lulled back and forth. "I told you," she breathed, "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not a witch."
Carmen threw the switch down onto the floor at Matilda's feet. Marching toward the heavy timber door, she shoved it open and walked out into the lighted hallway. "Have it your own way, you stupid girl. But let me tell you this, no one is coming for you." She slammed the door shut, extinguishing the torches in the dungeon.
Matilda heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, and screamed, but her cries for help were lost in the mute darkness of the cavernous room.
Time passed, Matilda was not aware how long, when the sound of the door being opened stirred her from a restless sleep. A dark figure, a hood concealing its face, hung the key on the wall.
"I'm sorry this has happened to you, but I'm too late, and there is nothing else I can do," the hooded woman whispered. "Someone will come for you, soon. Perhaps your people can help you."
"I don't have any people. Please don't leave me here," Matilda pleaded in a small, hoarse voice. But she was too late, the woman had gone, closing the door behind her.
After Alexandria had bathed and changed into dry clothes, she sat down, spoke her piece, then stared accusingly at Kat, her foot tapping impatiently under the table.
"I can't believe that you would think I could ever do that," Kat began, staring at Alexandria in disbelief. "I could see that you and Bran were really into each other. Actually, how far into—"
Alexandria raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms on the kitchen table.
Kat looked crestfallen for a moment, then said, "Okay, I would, but I would never do that to you. You're my family, for Christ's sake."
"Then why was he coming out of your room at that hour of the morning, half naked?"
"For a start, he wasn't really half naked ... he still had his pants on," Kat held up her hand when it looked like Alexandria was about to protest. "And secondly, he was coming out of my room because he spent the night—"
"He spent the night?" Alexandria cut in, looking mortified. The cups and plates on the table and benches around the kitchen began to rattle noisily.
"No. That came out all wrong ... well, not wrong, exactly, just not what you're thinking..." The cups and plates rattled louder. "Will you please just settle and let me finish telling you what happened before you go smashing all the china. Geez... I thought I was s
upposed to be the drama queen in this family—"
"Kat!"
"Alright," Kat sighed. "Like I was trying to tell you, he spent the night because I was about to turn Stanton Jameson into…" Kat paused, noting the bewildered look on Alexandria's face. "Stanton is that guy—"
"I know who Stanton is," Alexandria said irritably, recalling the boy propping open the front door at the Abbots' mansion that morning with whiskers drawn on his cheeks in black and fingernails painted with fire engine red nail polish. The same color nail polish Kat was wearing. Okay. Now the whiskers and the nail polish on Stanton made sense, at least, Alexandria thought.
Kat continued. "Good. Anyway, Stanton was being a complete jerk, and I was about to turn him into a hideous, pimply teenager with bad hair when Bran swooped in out of nowhere and dragged me, very ungentlemanly I might add, upstairs where he barricaded me in my room until I fell asleep, and, well, I guess he fell asleep, too." The accusing look on Alexandria's face hadn't shifted. "He fell asleep on the sofa in my room, not in my bed." Kat shook her head. "You have some serious trust issues."
Alexandria thought about that for a long moment. "I see. So he knows you're a witch? Does he know that I'm a witch, too?"
Kat shrugged. "I guess so. It’s a family thing, after all. I figured you must have told him."
Alexandria shook her head. "I never said a word…" She paused for a moment, then continued. "So why were you throwing your shoes at him?" she asked, her mind in turmoil thinking about the host of possible reasons, none of which she imagined she'd like. She also wondered how long Bran had known she was a witch. Had he known all along?
"Did you not hear what I just said?" Kat said, jolting Alexandria from her thoughts. "He dragged me up the stairs by my arm like a common criminal, then barricaded me in my room! At my own party, in my own home. The cheek of him," she said, tossing her hair, then uncrossing and re-crossing her tanned legs. "He's lucky that's all I threw at him. You make sure to tell him that too, when—"
Alexandria cut her off abruptly. "You were going to practice witchcraft in front of everyone at the party?" she asked incredulously. "What were you thinking?"
"I was drunk," Kat said defensively, avoiding Alexandria's piecing glare.
"That's your excuse? You were drunk?"
"Lots of people were drunk. They probably won't remember a—"
Alexandria whipped up her hand. "Shut up."
Kat was about to object to the hand that materialized just inches from her face.
"Shush," Alexandria hissed, her eyes closing as she concentrated on the sound. "Do you hear that?" she whispered, opening her eyes, her gaze drifting towards the back door of the kitchen that opened out onto the back patio. Alexandria shot up out of her chair and ran out onto the patio overlooking the dark backyard and the gazebo tucked beneath a sprawling oak tree. The gazebo, a wreck of its former self, was propped up by vines, and the light cast from the silver moon filtered through the branches of the oak.
She ran in the dark all the way to the gazebo, the smooth stones in the path glistening in the moonlight lighting her way. When she reached the old structure, she climbed the rotting steps, which groaned painfully beneath each footfall. In the center of the gazebo, an old table pushed towards the back of the gazebo was overgrown by creeping vines. Amongst the vines something glittered, catching her eye. Hastily, she pushed the vines aside and discovered an antique locket. She picked up the chain and held it out at arm's length until the chain had completely unraveled. On the front of the locket was a pentagram, and to her surprise it was not a locket, but a pocket watch, which she recognized immediately.
Breathless, Kat arrived by her side just moments later. "I still can't hear anything. Are you sure you're not just imagining it?"
"I'm not imagining anything. It was a girl. A witch, I think. She's in danger. I could hear her, but…" Alexandria paused.
"But what?" Kat asked, slowly catching her breath. She looked at the pocket watch dangling on the chain. "Where did that come from? Whose is it?"
Alexandria shook her head, ignoring Kat's questions. "I can't hear her anymore." The pocket watch in her hand began to emit a whirring sound, and Alexandria opened the lid to see the hands of the watch whizzing around in an anticlockwise direction. "It's a pocket watch. I found it on the table just now. It was my father's. My mother gave it to him the Christmas before they died."
"So what's it doing here now? Someone must have left it here just recently. It couldn't have just been sitting here undiscovered for all these years. Raymond would have found it and flogged it off in some pawn shop the first chance he got. Thieving mongrel."
"I don't know," Alexandria murmured, lost in thought, then all of a sudden, she grasped Kat's hand in her own and squeezed. The gazebo creaked like old bones beneath their feet, then slowly it began to turn, gathering speed powered by the clasped hands of the two witches.
"Quick. Jump," Alexandria shouted over the whirling, creaking sound of the spinning gazebo, pulling Kat after her. They stood in silence at the foot of the gazebo as it continued to pick up speed, then abruptly fell deathly silent, transforming into a glowing, spinning orb.
"Jesus," Kat said, holding tightly onto Alexandria's hand, the breeze off the orb tousling their hair. "It's beautiful, but what the hell is it?"
"It's some kind of portal," Alexandria said, looking at the pocket watch still whirling in her hand. "This must be some kind of key or a power source of some kind. With our combined powers, I think we can control it."
"Awesome," Kat whispered. "Where does the portal go, exactly? Paris? I've always wanted to go to Paris. Do you think—"
"Or to whom," Alexandria said, looking at Kat and taking a step towards the orb. "I'm going in. I think I'm meant to save the girl. I think that's why I could hear her. It's like she is reaching out to me."
Kat tugged Alexandria back by the hand. "Are you serious? You can't just go charging in there like a bull at a gate. God only knows where you'll end up ... or if you can get back. I've read about these things," Kat said, motioning to the orb with her free hand. "You can't just hop on board and go whizzing around in God only knows what, to end up God only knows where. It isn't a freaking carousel with a bunch of pretty horses that you can get off whenever you feel like it. We should wait for Aunt Mindy. Or Nina, the vamp, witch ... whatever she is." Kat was silent for a moment, deep in thought. "Unless of course you really think we could go to Paris. Just imagine the shoes and—"
"We don't have time." Alexandria pulled free from Kat's hand. "Don't you see, I have to go? Someone needs help, and they contacted me for help. I have no choice." She walked towards the glowing orb, the strong air current buffeting her body and whipping her floral sundress around her thighs. Suddenly she was jerked forward, as though the orb was surrounded by its own gravitational field.
Kat reached for Alexandria's hand, grabbed it, and then yanked her back. "Look. What's that in the center?" she asked, pointing into the bright center of the orb as a dark shape quickly began to grow. They both watched, mesmerized by the shape, as it transformed into a human figure. They looked at each other for a moment, then looked back at the orb.
Kat stepped a little closer. "Who do you think—" She sprang backward, wrenching Alexandria back with her.
A man in his early forties with long, fair hair tied back into a ponytail with a thin strip of leather appeared in front of them, as though the orb had spat him out. He was dressed in brown breeches and a white, long-sleeved, puffy shirt that was completely open down the front, exposing his broad chest. He stood in front of them, looking them up and down hungrily, then licked his lips, staring in disbelief at Alexandria's and Kat's bare legs. "Je crois que je rêve," he murmured, his eyes resting on Kat's cleavage.
Kat folded her arms across her chest and grimaced. "Do you mind, sleazoid? You're old enough to be my father." She looked him up and down in abhorrence. "Where the bloody hell did you come from, anyway?" she asked.
Moments later, a s
econd man jumped from the orb, dressed in similar medieval garb, a sword in a gloved hand slicing the air above his head. “Arrêtez-vous la, fripouille crasseux!" he shouted at the first man.
Holding her breath, Kat's heart missed a beat. She was quick to notice that this man was much younger than the first. She unfolded her arms and flicked her hair, giving him a clear view of her cleavage. He was movie-star handsome, in a roguish kind of way. His long, dark brown hair hung loose to his shoulders, beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Under a long coat, he wore a laced gray shirt and knee-high leather boots over black, buttoned-up breeches. "Now you are definitely swoon-worthy," she murmured.
The young man, sweeping the cavalier hat off his head, bowed low, a lock of hair falling across his face. "Mesdemoiselles, un plaisir de vous rencontrer, toutes les deux."
The first man saw this brief reprisal as an opportunity not to be missed. He took one look at the spiraling orb, then hightailed it into the forest.
The second man spun on his heels, throwing his hat to the ground. "Arrêtez-vous la, fripouille crasseux!" he shouted again, watching the man disappearing into the dark forest. Exasperated, he turned quickly back to Alexandria, sheathed his sword, and then kissed her on the hand. "Mademoiselle." He bowed again, before turning his attentions to Kat. Taking her hand in his, he kissed it slowly, tenderly. "Mademoiselle. Votre beauté me coupe le souffle," he murmured, bowing again, his brown eyes not leaving hers for a moment.
Kat giggled, offering the dashing stranger one of her sweetest smiles. It took all of her resolve not to reach out and brush the stray tuft of hair away from his face with her fingers. "Who the hell are you, gorgeous, and can I take you home with me?"
"Absolutely," he replied in perfect English. "My name is D'Artagnan, and I would love to be of service to you," he said, a mischievous sparkle in his eye, a wide grin spreading across his face. He took a second to look around, then said, "Ferntree Falls. How lovely to be back," then, without any further explanation, he returned his gaze to the pretty, dark haired girl blushing profusely in front of him, and he smiled the most gorgeous smile Kat had ever seen.
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