“Thank you, but I’m going home with Rachelle.” Jancie nodded to the friend at her side.
“Good.” Rowe lifted a forearm, signaling his owl to perch. “Logan or I will help if needed though.”
“Willow and Lizbeth, are you leaving with us?” Jancie asked.
“I didn’t get to go on the Celtic Braid.” Willow shifted her weight to one hip.
Lizbeth lifted her chin. “Well, I’m going with Jancie. Sneaking out from under the nose of the high priestess sounds more exciting.”
“Will that Adara woman try to hurt us too?” Willow’s huge blue eyes popped out.
“We’ll keep you all safe,” Rowe replied.
Willow crossed her thin arms over her flat chest. “Guess I’ll go too then.”
“I’ll get you all out via the rear gate. “ Rowe took a step in the direction of the alley door. “This way.”
“I’ll follow the group and keep watch,” Logan said to him.
“Okay, you three ladies surround Jancie best you can. Busby, stay high and look through the crowd for approaching danger.” Rowe lifted the tent flap and led them out.
The group squeezed along the alley and crossed one path without trouble. Three more crossings lay between them and the coven member’s gate. Rowe chose to avoid the main entrance. The darker back exit would provide more cover and be closer to the parking lot. Halfway across the second path, Rowe locked eyes with Sibeal, Adara’s close friend. The psychic stopped and watched the entourage pass. Rowe’s pulse quickened, and he took Jancie’s hand as they walked behind the tents.
Before attempting the next path in the arcade area, he paused to secure Jancie among her friends. He waited until the traffic grew thick then wound them through the dense crowd.
Above the din of voices, Busby let out a loud squawk.
With one foot off the asphalt walk, Rowe spun and looked back. He sensed Adara’s presence, forceful and determined.
A strong young man with curly blond hair pushed through the crowd toward them, toppling a few teenage boys to the ground.
Rowe unlatched his pocket watch and held it in his palm.
The man made a straight line to the four women, leading with his wide chest. He bared fang-like white teeth and called Jancie’s name with a growling voice. His face was distorted into a frightening grimace with the skin pulled taut. Adara’s energy cloaked him in a nefarious spell, leaving Rowe only one option.
He hurled his watch across the few yards separating him from the group of women. The timepiece zipped through the air in a blue-white bolt.
The man grabbed Willow‘s shoulder and pulled her away from Jancie like a tissue.
Rowe’s watch hit square on the man’s arm, and he let out a yelp while writhing with a hand clamped over the injury.
Rowe ran back and grabbed Jancie’s shaking hand, while Logan lifted Willow to her feet. The watch came back to Rowe’s pocket, and the group stumbled into the dark alleyway ahead. Rowe darted into the shadows of a large tent and stopped for the others to catch up.
Rowe’s owl landed on his outstretched forearm. “Good eye, Busby.” He stroked the familiar’s brown neck feathers with his free hand.
“What was that about?” Jancie sucked in a deep breath. “Harley never acts like that.”
“Adara must have charmed him,” Rowe replied.
“He looked more like an animal than a man.” Rachelle put a hand on Jancie’s back.
She shivered at her friend’s touch. “His teeth looked like fangs, and his pupils were yellow slits.” Jancie faced Willow. “Are you all right?”
Willow nodded while straining to see her palm. “My hand is scraped up and my wrist hurts.”
“Let me have a look.” Lizbeth ran her fingers along the wrist. “The bones are aligned correctly. Probably a bad sprain. I’ll get the first aid kit out when we get home.”
“Rowe, do you have a plan?” Logan scanned the surrounding shadows.
“I do.” Rowe lifted his forearm to direct the owl toward a tent post, then gathered the women. “Ladies, I need you to give me something you have with you: a scarf, item of jewelry, business card, whatever personal item you’re willing to part with. I’ll return the items to you in your car.”
Logan shot him a knowing smile. “Make it quick.”
“Jancie, are you sure about this guy?” Willow leaned in. “He isn’t some kind of thief?”
Jancie touched a thumb to the backside of her mother’s ring and decided against that item. She dug in her purse and handed him her lipstick.
Rachelle yanked off a bangle and handed it to Rowe. “Willow, you can stay here and dodge the Harley-Cat if you like.”
Lizbeth passed her library card down the line. “I can easily replace this.”
Willow shrugged and handed over her recipe notes about the sausage roll she’d scribbled on the back of her ticket.
Rowe held the four items in outstretched hands. Blue-white light filled his palms. The items floated to positions beside each woman, sparked with his energy, and transformed into clones of their owners.
The women stared at their duplicates, transfixed.
He whirled his fingers in the air, and the clones ran back the way the group had traveled. “Those clones are high frequency animations I created from your personal items. My magical specialty. When you reach your car, the clones will disappear. The items will reappear inside your car. You may now walk out of the carnival with little or no notice.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. High frequency animations were taxing, especially four at once. He took a deep breath and led them along the alley.
Jancie found his hand. “Thank you. That was amazing.”
The touch of her hand made him feel rested and comforted. He glanced at her, bewildered. It normally took a night’s sleep to renew from that much animation. He wondered what she possessed that restored him. He lifted their joined hands. “No. You are amazing.”
They traveled through the gate to Rachelle’s car without incident, although Rowe’s barn owl insisted on keeping a high lookout in flight.
Rowe and Logan secured the women in their car, where they all found their personal items except Rachelle.
Rowe promised to find her bracelet and set a protective spell on the Chrysler’s doors.
“Is that normal for animation items to get lost?” Logan asked him on their walk back to the carnival.
“It’s possible. That was a lot of animation at once.” Rowe let out a sigh. “I was spent. What was really strange was when Jancie took hold of my hand afterward, somehow she almost completely renewed me.”
“That is something. Normally don’t you have to sleep it off?” Logan slapped his friend’s back. “She might come in handy. Not as rough an outcome as you were expecting.”
“Uh huh,” Rowe said absently as his gaze followed a shadow darting between cars. He pointed to the movement. “Check that out.”
Busby lifted higher from where he glided at Rowe’s shoulder.
“Looks like just a dog or a bobcat,” Logan replied.
“That’s no dog.” Rowe moved to see the animal pass under a security light.
Busby darted back, trembling.
Jancie’s enchanted ex-boyfriend sprang from car to car in the direction of the main road.
Chapter Ten: The Long Way Home
Jancie perched on the edge of the Chrysler’s backseat as Rachelle drove through the maze of parked cars toward the exit of the carnival’s lot. The girls remained quiet, checking in all directions.
Jancie steadied herself with a hand on the back of the driver’s seat. Jittery, like she’d had too much coffee, her body felt exhausted although her mind raced. So much had happened in the last few hours that she couldn’t process it all. Seeing and talking with her mother brought Jancie peace and resolution, something she’d wanted the entire past six months.
New worries threaded into Jancie’s thoughts. Harley now stalked her like a predator. She shivered. He’d ev
en looked like some sort of fierce cat. The coven leader Adara was out to get her for a reason Jancie didn’t fully understand. To Jancie, the moonstone simply connected her to Rowe so they could help each other. It was only fair for her to return his favor and help him get over his own grief. That didn’t seem like enough to make Adara jealous. Rowe had warned her there would be a price for her connection to Mom’s spirit. Were these strange troubles the price? Jancie couldn’t help but think the problems with Adara and Harley were connected.
Jancie sank into the plush, velour seat and remembered her interaction with Mom: how she looked, her familiar voice, the warm touch of her hand. How did she know that I tended her garden? She hugged her arms around her chest. Mom watched out for her. Knowing that was worth any consequence. Jancie was glad she’d not listened to her dad’s advice.
Rachelle turned the car onto the road that became Maple Street in town.
They slowed to a stop at the intersection of the next county road. A loud thud hit the rear end of the Chrysler. Jancie whirled around.
Hands clutched the antenna’s base at the upper part of the trunk.
Jancie screamed.
Willow whipped around and her high-pitched squeal split Jancie’s eardrums.
Harley’s face plastered against the rear window. Vertical pupil slits glowed an eerie yellow-green in the dim light. His bared teeth seemed longer and more pointed. His ears protruded from thick, matted hair and pinned back like those of an angry dog.
“Oh shit!” Rachelle exclaimed and swerved the car.
Lizbeth hung over the back of her front seat, but Willow pushed her aside attempting unsuccessfully to crawl forward between the headrests.
Jancie leaned back and hit the glass near Harley’s face hoping to startle him so he’d fall off. When her attempts failed, she screamed at him. “Harley, go away!”
“Never,” he growled. “You’re mine, Jancie.”
She yelled, “Rachelle, swerve the car back and forth to throw him off.”
“Geez, I don’t want to kill him and go to jail.” Rachelle’s eyes shined in the rearview mirror. “Lizbeth, call the sheriff.”
“I will but don’t count on much.” From the passenger side, Lizbeth punched buttons on her phone. “As a rule, they don’t help with coven matters. The newspaper is always filled with sheriff visits about wild witch sightings. Always written off as a feral cat on the loose. Or a coon digging in a trash can.”
Jancie rummaged for her own phone and Rowe’s business card. She dialed the number he’d written on the back, hoping it was his cell. The number rang repeatedly without an answer. On the fifth ring, she bit her lip.
In the background, she heard Lizbeth talking to the sheriff’s dispatcher. “A crazy man, Harley Hincks, jumped onto our trunk. He won’t let go, and he’s threatening to hurt us…at the carnival…four women. No, we didn’t have any beers! Or flirt with any male witches. Or taunt any females. We’re near the intersection of Maple and County Road 101. Please send some help right away.”
Rowe’s answering machine clicked on, and Jancie left a message. “Rowe, it’s Jancie. Harley is attacking our car! He looks even wilder. We’re freaking out. We’re on Maple just past 101 going toward town. Please help.”
“Everyone, fasten your seat belts,” Rachelle cried. Once Jancie and Willow clicked their belts, she slammed on the brakes, sending Harley rolling over the roof, down the windshield, and onto the hood.
His fingers gripped the frame of the hood, and he snarled at Rachelle.
Jancie’s pulse raced. “Hit the windshield washers.”
Rachelle turned them on high speed. They scraped his knuckles leaving bloody streaks across the glass, but he clung on grimacing with bared fang-like teeth.
Willow wrapped her long arms around Jancie.
Rachelle swerved again, almost colliding with a big sycamore tree, and Harley lost one handhold. She made a sharp turn in the other direction, only to have him find his original grip with both hands. She started to crank the wheel in the opposite direction, and he slid down the curve of the trailing fender. “What the heck? I barely moved.”
“Where’d he go?” Jancie cried and shoved Willow’s arms and legs off of her. Twisting in circles to look through each window, Jancie expected him to come at her from any angle like some supernatural demon.
Twenty feet from their stopped car, his tall frame bent low, staggering.
“There he is, to the right by that big bush,” Jancie directed.” Rachelle, slow down. He looks injured. But we didn’t throw him off, did we? Did any of you see what happened?”
Willow unlatched her seatbelt and jumped left into Jancie’s lap.
Lizbeth plastered her face to the front passenger window.” He just looks dazed, but his eyes aren’t cat-like now. There’s the deputy’s car. This should get real interesting now.”
Jancie climbed out from under Willow and edged up to the right window.
Harley’s face appeared normal, although his hands were bloody, and he staggered like he was drunk. He shook himself as if trying to clear his head, a puzzled look on his face as he looked around.
Another person moved in the shadows beside the bush, a man with his arm extended toward Harley. The man’s shoulders were wide, in a padded suit jacket. A dark fedora sat on his head. Jancie sensed Rowe’s magic. The same sensation she’d felt dissipating from his hand after he created animated clones of her and her friends. She strained to see more of him. Headlights from the sheriff’s car swept across the area and shined over the bush. Only the white face of a barn owl caught the light, and the bird winged away.
Jancie’s heart pounded in her throat. “Over there. Next to that bush. Rowe was there, and his owl. Did you see them?”
“No, but Harley looks like his dopey self again. Thank God.” Lizbeth rolled down her window.
The deputy, now parked and out of his car, escorted Jancie’s ex to the cruiser’s backseat.
Rachelle continued to white-knuckle the steering wheel. “If you’re right, maybe Rowe took a spell off of Harley. But how did he get that spell on him to begin with?”
“I wish I knew.” Jancie let out a slow exhale through her nose and scanned the darkness for any sign of Rowe.
The deputy approached their car where Lizbeth leaned her head through the open window.
“Evening ladies.” He touched the wide brim of his hat. “Were you the ones who called about a man on your car?”
“Yes, we were. He was the man you just took away,” Lizbeth replied.
“No offense, Ma’am, but I tested with a breathalyzer, and he’s at 0.13. Too drunk to walk a line as wide as a sidewalk much less hang onto a moving car.” He leaned in close, sniffing Lizbeth’s breath. “You ladies must have been spun around by the sights at the carnival.”
She pounded a hand on the door frame. “Why don’t any of you deputies ever want to hear the truth about what goes on around here? Aren’t there any regulations you’re required to follow?”
“There are, but if we follow them, no one at the state office wants to hear about the truth from these parts.” He lowered his voice. “And we’d like to keep our jobs. We have families to feed.” He leaned away and spat on the ground. “And ‘sides, it always turns out to be some simple witch’s prank; nothing harmful. You’re from around here. You know to keep your distance and not strike up a quarrel with coven folks. They’re really good folk and good for Bentbone’s economy. They keep us on the map. You know that well as me.” He touched the brim of his hand and withdrew.
Lizbeth let out a long exhale and scooted away from the window, rolling her eyes at the others in the car.
Rachelle put the car in gear and drove away, cussing under her breath.
***
The women spilled into Jancie’s kitchen, their bodies limp like dishrags.
Jancie checked the doors, clicked the backyard flood light on, and peered out at her mother’s herb garden. The silvery sage leaves and white chrysanthemum buds c
aught the light and seemed to nod a reassurance to her. She squinted and tried to call to life the filmy ghost she’d seen of her mother. Rubbing the moonstone did no good. But Mom’s image still blazed in her mind, and in her heart.
Seeing Mom was worth all that’d happened, and whatever might happen in the future. Jancie resisted the urge to run out and sit by the garden, bathe her hands in the dirt and feel her mother’s spirit on her skin. That would have to wait until daytime. Not in the darkness with Adara and Harley after her, for what she didn’t know. But right now, Jancie was grateful for the feeling of comfort that reached out to her from the herb patch.
“Is someone out there?” Rachelle frowned at Jancie.
Jancie turned away and smiled. “No. Mom and her herbs are keeping watch.”
Rachelle shook her head and reached into the fridge. Her bracelets jangled as she helped herself to some pops. “I think that witch stuff at the carnival has gotten to your head. I’m not laying stock in protection by any herbs. Not from that Harley-cat, anyway.”
“May be more reliable than that deputy.” Jancie put her hand out and accepted a can from her friend.
“For sure.” Rachelle gave a snort.
Lizbeth pulled Willow to the sink. “Where’s your first aid kit, Jancie?”
“There’s one under the sink,” Jancie replied. “I have more stuff in the bathroom, too.”
Willow squirmed and winced while her friend washed the scraped palm.
“Stand there and pat it dry with this paper towel.” Lizbeth rummaged through the kit she’d placed on the counter. “Hmm. Since I had to get bits of gravel dust out of these scrapes, they’re oozing. I need a large bandage. Do you have any?”
Jancie pinched a handful of yarrow leaves from the vase of herbs and flowers on the kitchen table. “Use these. They stop bleeding and heal cuts.”
Lizbeth wrinkled her nose. “They aren’t sterile.”
“They’re fine.” Jancie squeezed next to Willow and laid the frilly leaves across the injured skin. She placed another folded paper towel over top and secured it with a length of bandage tape. “There. Keep that on for an hour, then we’ll change the dressing.”
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