CALL OF THE WITCH
Dana E. Donovan
Books in this series include:
THE WITCH’S LADDER
EYE OF THE WITCH
THE WITCH’S KEY
BONES OF A WITCH
WITCH HOUSE
KISS THE WITCH
Other titles by author Dana E. Donovan:
ABANDONED
SKINNY
RESURRECTION
DEATH & OTHER LITTLE INCONVENIENCES
Author's notes: This book is based entirely on fiction and its story line derived solely from the imagination of its author. No characters, places or incidents in this book are real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, events or locales is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be copied or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy or otherwise without the express written permission of the author or author’s agent.
CALL OF THE WITCH © Dana E. Donovan 2011
Cover design by Vickie Donovan © 2011
ABDUCTION
Many things went through my mind the night Lilith took me through the Rite of Passage ceremony with her. I say ceremony for lack of a better word. After all, that’s what Lilith called it. Certainly, it was an event, a violent episode filled with fire, wind and a blinding light as hot as the sun. I remember thinking something terrible had gone wrong. I held Lilith tightly against my body, sheltering her from the angry winds trying to rip her from my arms. And I remember kissing her, goodbye I thought.
When I opened my eyes, everything was gone, the house, the furniture––everything. Only Lilith and I remained. My heart pounded so loud I could hear it through my chest. I blinked at the dust still swirling lazily around my eyes. I felt a vague sense of shock give way to dull relief, then confusion. Lilith held a piece of broken mirror to my face and showed me the man looking back, his blank stare undeniably familiar.
I suspected the illusion was surely a product of witchcraft, or a hologram perhaps. I had seen such things at theme parks and on PBS science shows. I knew she possessed the skills of a witch to pull it off. She had already demonstrated a repertoire of magic rivaling the best in Hollywood-style visual manipulation.
Then I looked at my body, a body I hadn’t seen in over forty years. It was lean. Muscular. Void of scars. It was the body of a young man. The body I remembered having when I first graduated from the academy.
I looked into Lilith’s eyes, her hauntingly deep, dark beautiful ebony eyes. She appeared younger too, though only by a few years; as if shaving another year off her age could have made her look any more stunning. She told me she returned us to our prime, to that quintessential age when our bodies were at their physical peak and our minds at their sharpest. And they were.
A million thoughts raced through my mind simultaneously. They ran wild, ricocheting off brain cells I hadn’t used in years, finding cognition in their receptors. I thought of the life I was about to start over; the things I would change. The things I would not. I thought of Lilith. Wondered if I would marry her. I wondered about my job. If I still had one. Hell, if I still had an identity.
Later, we watched from a neighbor’s yard, cloaked in the shadows of night, as Carlos, the men from the Second Precinct and the NCFD sifted through the rubble that was once Lilith’s house. I held her in my arms and wondered about my future, about the second chance I was given to perform a life of do-overs.
Strange enough, but the one thing that never crossed my mind that night, of all the regrets and curiosities of what might have been, of all the wrongs I now had the chance to right; I never thought about babies. More specifically, about having one with Lilith.
So, those were the things I thought about on a cloudy Saturday afternoon as I daydreamed out the window. I wasn’t scheduled to work, but came in anyway. I do that sometimes to avoid the occasional protracted argument with Lilith. She hates when I do that. I hate the arguments. I guess that makes us even.
Carlos came in and caught me in my daydream, my chair pitched back, feet up on the desk, fingers laced behind my head. He dropped into the seat across from me with a thud. Until then, I had no idea he was in the room.
“What are you thinking about?” He picked up a pencil and began tapping it on the blotter.
I turned my head to him, blinking until my eyes adjusted to the office lights. “Huh?”
“You look like you’re a million miles away. Something on your mind?”
I lifted my feet, planted them on the floor, swiveled my chair forward and parked my elbows on the desk. “It’s Lilith,” I said.
He dropped the pencil into a cup holding a half-dozen others. “Figured that much. Trouble in paradise again?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s the same damn thing again, that consummation ritual. She won’t let it go. Thinks I don’t appreciate tradition.”
“Well, no. I don’t suppose you do. Not as long as you keep referring to it as that damn thing.”
“So now you’re taking her side.”
He smiled at that. “I’m not taking sides. I’m just pointing out that you might demonstrate a greater understanding of her if you don’t refer to it as that damn thing.”
“Carlos, I don’t refer to it as that damn thing to her face. You think I’m crazy?”
“No. Pathetic maybe, but not crazy.”
“Pathetic? What’s so pathetic about not wanting to participate in some black magic ritual where I’m tied to the bedposts, blindfolded, splayed naked and subjected to her every whim?”
“The fact you don’t want to be tied to the bedposts, blindfolded, splayed naked and subjected to her every whim is pathetic. Come on, Tony. It’s Lilith. She doesn’t practice black magic. You know that. What are you afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Sounds like you are.”
“Yeah, and you sound like Lilith. What did she do, put you up to this?”
“Up to what?”
“This. You coming here and badgering me into doing something I don’t want to do.”
“I’m not badgering. Look. Forget I said anything.”
“Fine. I will.”
“Besides, I’m here because I’m scheduled. Why are you here?”
I settled again into the back of my chair, breaking eye contact with Carlos long enough to think of something almost believable. “I came in to finish the McDowell report.”
He gave me that boyish smile of his, the one I used to think so innocent, but now I liken to a serpent’s grin. “The McDowell report? Didn’t you submit that three days ago?”
“I added an addendum.”
“An addendum.”
I pulled the pencil he was playing with earlier from the cup and pitched it at him. “Bite me, Rodriquez.”
He snatched it in mid-air before it crossed the desk. I kicked back once more and returned my gaze to the window. A long silence followed. I don’t know, maybe not so long. Time often drags when I’m waiting for some snide comeback from Carlos, a comeback that all too often doesn’t come. Fearing he might try to redirect the conversation back to me and Lilith, I said to him, “You look nice. Going somewhere after work?”
“I got a date.”
“Same girl?”
“Yup.”
“You’ve been seeing her for a while now, haven’t you?”
“Yup”
“What’s her name again?”
“Lauri.”
“Oh, right. Without the E if I remember.”
“That’s right. Without the E.”
“She have a last name?”
“Of course.” He let the silence drag.<
br />
“You going to tell me?”
“I told you once already.”
“When?”
“The other day. You and Dominic were asking. I told you all about her.”
“Well, tell me again. I forgot.”
“Shullit. Her name is Lauri Shullit. I met her at a club on Edgewater. We’ve been seeing each other for about three months now. You would know that if you ever took an interest in your best friend’s business. But nooo, why would you? You’re too wrapped up in your paranoid little world where a smoking hot witch wants to ravage your body in a night of sex-filled ecstasy-driven bliss. Ooh, but wait. That’s right. You’re too afraid to enjoy it.”
“Shullit?” I said, ignoring his rant. “What’s that, Jewish?”
“You’re going to ignore it, aren’t you?”
“As long as I can.”
“See, this is what Dominic means.”
I turned my gaze from the window. He turned his from me. “What does Dominic mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Carlos, tell me.”
He came back; a smug grin tied to his hooked brow. “He says you’re chicken.”
“What?”
“Yeah, chicken when it comes to women.”
“Me? Chicken with women? He should talk.”
“Well, with strong women like Lilith. He says you’re afraid to let your guard down around her. I think he’s right.”
“I’m not chicken. You can tell him that. Hell, I’d like to see him survive one day with Lilith when she’s in one of her moods.”
“Whatever.”
“Speaking of Dominic. Where is he? I thought he was on today.”
“He is, but he had to go home for a while.”
“Ursula?”
“Yeah, she’s having a tough time––still.”
“What’s she like…three months now?”
He thought about it. “Yeah, right about. Maybe thirteen weeks.”
“I thought morning sickness goes away by the second trimester.”
“It does. That’s not her problem anymore. Dominic says it’s mostly the dizzy spells now, that and the fainting.”
“What’s her doctor say?”
“Tony, see this is what I mean.”
“What?”
“If you took a little more interest in your best friends` business, you’d know she doesn’t have a doctor.”
“Why not.”
“Duh. Her blood pressure?”
“Oh,” I said, remembering that Lilith’s normal BP is forty over twenty. “I supposed if Ursula’s blood pressure read anything like Lilith’s, then that would raise some alarms with a doctor.”
“They would think she’s in a walking coma and admit her into the hospital, stat.”
“Yeah, I suppose. Between that and whatever other anomalies they found, it’d only be a matter of time before the real freak show began.”
“Now you get it.”
“So, with no doctors in her prenatal plans, is she going to be all right?”
“Nice that you care.”
“Excuse me?”
“She’ll be fine. She just needs to stay off her feet until her body’s natural baby-making instincts finish kicking in.”
“Baby-making instincts?”
“Dominic’s words. Not mine. He said Lilith explained it to him. You see, pretty soon her veins and arteries will start to constrict on their own. That will create more resistance in blood flow, which will make her heart pump harder and increase her blood pressure. Once that happens, the baby will begin getting more blood to the brain and organs and everything will be fine.”
“Uh-huh. So in the meantime, Dominic has to stay home and hold her hand.”
“Tony. Did you lose your heart along with your balls in that coven ceremony?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s just that…. Wait.” He held his finger up to shish me while he answered his phone. “That might be Lauri. Hello?”
I don’t usually make a habit of eavesdropping on other people’s personal phone calls, but this one caught my attention. Carlos switched hands to press the phone to his good ear and stood while he talked.
“Lionel, please,” he said. “Slow down. Start from the beginning. She what? When? Are you sure?” He checked his watch. “All right. Listen. I’ll be right over. Yes. I’m leaving now. Just sit tight. And don’t worry. We’ll find her. Okay? Bye.”
He hung up and gave me a look as desperate as any I had ever seen on his face before. I rocked forward in my chair. “What is it?”
“That was Lionel Brewbaker, an old friend of mine.”
“Yes?”
“He says his daughter is missing.”
“His daughter? How old is she? You know teenagers today like to––”
“She’s nine, Tony.”
The way he said it made my blood run cold.
“Nine?”
“Yeah.” He gave a nod over his shoulder. “I have to go. You want to come?”
“Sure. You want me to drive?”
He started down the hall. “If you think you can keep up with me.”
On the drive to the Brewbaker home, Carlos filled me in on what he knew so far, starting with his association with Lionel Brewbaker and his father, Lionel James Brewbaker Sr.
“You’ve heard of the Brewbaker & Massy Department Store chain, haven’t you?”
“Sure,” I told him. “They have stores in New Castle, Essex, Lexington and…what?”
“Brockton, Everett, Saugus, Revere and Malden. Plus a boutique in downtown Boston. All of them started from a little corner store location here in New Castle. When I was a kid straight over from Cuba, no one wanted to give me a job. But old man Brewbaker was just about to open a second store with Massy, and he needed good help.”
“So he had to settle for you, eh?”
“Funny.” He turned off Main and onto Madison. “Anyway, yeah, he gave me a job. I worked for him for a few years. Part-time during school season. Full-time in the summers. I got to know his son, Lionel Junior very well. He was my age. We became good friends. Kept in close touch through the years. Not so much lately. Not since old man Brewbaker died and left Junior with his share of the company.”
“Well,” I said, “running a chain of department stores can keep a man mighty busy.”
“Yeah, that and marrying a woman half his age.”
I laughed at that, imagining Carlos with a woman half his age. “Really?”
“Lionel met her at a dinner theater a while back, `bout ten years. She was an actress in the show. They dated a little, fell in love. When the troupe pulled out of town, she stayed and they got married.”
“I guess that explains the nine-year-old daughter.”
His face grew serious then. “Yeah, I guess.” He made a left turn off Madison onto a driveway a hundred yards long, leading to a stately, brick two-story with colonial-type columns out front and enough chimneys to keep Santa busy for a fortnight.
Lionel Brewbaker greeted us at the door, gave Carlos a hug, and then let us in. He escorted us to the living room where Mrs. Brewbaker sat waiting, a cigarette in one hand, a glass of bourbon in the other. She stood upon introductions. Lionel Brewbaker told us her name was Mandy, though she insisted we call her Amanda. I knew from what Carlos told me that Amanda wasn’t that old. Half Lionel Brewbaker’s age, Carlos said. I supposed that put her at around thirty-one or two. Thirty-three, tops. Sadly, she looked much older. She was skinny beyond healthy, carried serious bags under her eyes and had the complexion of an albino in winter. I’d like to tell you that I thought her current state of anguish had contributed considerably to her condition, or given the appearance of having aged her. But I didn’t think that was the case. The woman had been working on that look for years.
Carlos and I nodded to her request, repeating her name, Amanda, with earnest smiles. She smiled back and reclaimed her seat.
Carlos said, “Lionel, Detective Marcella is a good cop
. He knows his stuff. He can help us.”
“Then bless you for coming,” said Brewbaker. He shook my hand, cupping it with both of his. Our eyes met and locked. His were red and glazed with worry. He had not been crying, but it looked like he might. More than I could say for Amanda Brewbaker.
“We’ll do everything we can to help you,” I said. “I promise.”
He repeated his blessing for me.
“Lionel,” said Carlos, “tell me what’s happening.”
I saw the two Brewbakers exchange looks. Amanda Brewbaker turned her head down and away, finding a spot on the floor and latching on to it. Her husband came back to Carlos. “I don’t know what’s happening. I honestly don’t. I came home this afternoon, thinking everything was fine, until Mandy arrived to pick up our daughter, and that’s when we realized she was gone. Carlos, please. I don’t know what to do. We’re beside ourselves. This isn’t like Kelly.”
“You say it’s not like her. So you don’t think she ran away?”
“No. Definitely not.”
“Does she have her own phone?”
“Yes, and we’ve tried calling it, but keep getting this message saying the person we are trying to reach is unavailable.”
“Okay, so what time did you say you got home?”
“Around three o’clock. I had an appointment with my lawyers at one this afternoon. The appointment ran late. Ended around two-thirty. I came straight home after that.”
Carlos jotted the info down on his notepad. “When’s the last time you saw Kelly?”
“This morning before I left for work. Eight o’clock I think. Maybe eight fifteen.”
“And you, Mrs. Brewbaker. When did you last see her?”
She looked up at him, offering a vague shrug. “Last weekend when I brought her home.”
“Ma'am?”
“We have shared custody,” Lionel said. Carlos seemed surprised. “We’re separated and going through a divorce.”
“I see.”
“Mandy no longer lives here. I have primary custody of Kelly for now. She stays with me during the week. Mandy usually picks her up Saturday mornings, keeps her for the weekend and drops her off again Sunday night.”
Tony Marcella 07 - Call of the Witch Page 1