Looking for Mr. Good Witch

by Joyce

  “Quick,” Elsie encouraged her. “Try to pick up that tissue Molly just dropped on the floor.”

  “Sorry.” I leaned forward to retrieve the tissue off the immaculate gray carpet. It was force of habit. I didn’t reckon with Olivia doing the same.

  Our heads collided—or would have if Olivia had been solid. Instead, her head went right through mine. Her arm went through mine too. It was an eerie experience.

  “I did it!” Olivia was grinning as she held up the tissue. “I actually did it. I’m getting a handle on this whole ghost thing. It won’t be long until I can look for a new lover.”

  We all laughed at that even though my head and arm were still tingling from our encounter.

  “Leave it to you to think of that,” Elsie mocked. “Of all the things in the world, that was the first one?”

  “I think that might be the most important one,” Olivia shot back, still holding the tissue. “Where are we off to next?”

  CHAPTER 35

  May my sword stay between myself and all danger.

  May my magic protect from all who would harm me.

  Blessed Be.

  We stopped at Marlie Eubanks’s house on the way to Southport. She also asked us in for tea and cookies. The spelled mirror saw her with a very young lover and an older man we assumed must be her husband. He didn’t look very happy.

  As we went back to the car, Elsie shook her faded red curls. “I’m glad this is almost over. I’m going to gain weight from looking for the evil sea witch.”

  “There’s only Portia de Winter left on the list,” I said. “What address do we have for her?”

  Dorothy consulted the list. “She lives out here too. We’re only a few minutes from her place.”

  I glanced at my watch—the antique I was using as a prop to talk to the witches we suspected. “That should be fine. I’ll have to go right after to get Joe.”

  We were beginning to give up hope on the plan. The mirror seemed to be working, but none of the suspects had turned into dead witches when we’d looked at them in it.

  “Are you sure you’re doing it the right way?” Olivia asked.

  “We appeared correctly in it. The other witches seemed the same. I don’t know what else we can do.”

  Dorothy started the car. “We only have one more witch to try. Either it will be her or we’ll have to come up with a new plan.”

  “What are the chances that someone working for the council is a sea witch?” Olivia asked. “I know we don’t think much of the council, but surely they would check out those who work for them.”

  Elsie chuckled. “That might be true, but don’t call me Shirley.”

  Dorothy laughed too, and I smiled.

  “That was really lame, Elsie,” Olivia berated her. “You have to find some new jokes.”

  We drove to an older house on the beach. The windows were boarded up. Half the roof was gone. It looked as though it had been the victim of a hurricane, but not a recent one.

  “Are you sure this is the right place?” Dorothy asked. “We couldn’t verify the address with my phone since she’s only been here a short time.”

  “That’s what the memorial guest book said.” I looked at the house. “There must be some mistake.”

  “Or she’s the sea witch and lives over there in the water and not in a house at all,” Elsie added. “Did none of you think that could be the case?”

  “I think she’s right.” Dorothy took a deep breath. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  Portia de Winter came around the side of the old house. The ocean breezes blew at her silky silver hair and whipped at her long blue skirt. Her pale blue blouse was studded with silver stars.

  “Hello, ladies!” She greeted us with a big smile on her classically pretty face. “Come around back. I’m staying in the guesthouse. I’m hoping to get this old monstrosity torn down and build something later. I’d love to stay here in the area. It’s a charming place.”

  “Maybe not so much the sea witch after all,” Elsie whispered.

  We followed Portia behind the house, where an old swimming pool was empty, the concrete cracked and overgrown with weeds. The guesthouse was small but perfect for one person. She invited us in for lemon meringue pie that she’d made that morning.

  Elsie groaned before she smiled and accepted a slice.

  “I see you brought your ghost,” Portia said. “You know the council doesn’t look favorably on her being here.”

  “We know,” I answered. “We don’t care how the council feels about her. She’s our friend and Dorothy’s mother. The rule is wrong. Why feel like witches can’t be ghosts?”

  Portia shrugged as she cut the pie. “I think being a witch is all about the natural order of things. When you die, you move on. Don’t you believe that, Molly?”

  “I do. But when there is strong purpose, and not just a lingering shadow, I think there should be an exception. Olivia had no time to get to know her daughter. This is all the time she has with Dorothy.”

  I didn’t mention Brandy, Emma’s daughter, but I knew that witches who were firmly against ghosts clinging to life wouldn’t care that Brandy was only a baby separated from her mother.

  Portia passed out the pie on wonderful china plates that were painted with delicate seashells and other ocean life. “I’m sure you’re right. The council is stubborn and slow to change.”

  The little room we sat in was pleasant in the watery sunlight. There was an old fireplace for heat and a tiny kitchen area. A bed was in one corner with a chest and lamp beside it.

  It looked as though this was going to be another dead end. Dorothy was eagerly eating her pie. Elsie was only looking at hers and sighing.

  I glanced at my plate, about to take a bite. But where the beautiful china had held luscious lemon pie, there was now only a piece of barnacled metal with seaweed on it.

  “Don’t eat it!” I dropped the plate on the tile floor. “It’s not real. It may be poisoned!”

  Elsie dropped her plate right away. It was too late for Dorothy.

  “I don’t feel very well, Molly,” Dorothy said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  She fell to the floor, not moving.

  Portia smiled. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine. What gave me away?”

  I looked at my hand. The rune was seeping blood around the edges. That had also been masked by her glamour. “You’re the sea witch, and the Bone Man’s wife.”

  Her brows lifted. She appeared pleasantly amused. “I haven’t heard that term. What does it mean?”

  “You haven’t been here long. That’s what the witches in this area call your husband.”

  “Really? How does he feel about it? I’ll bet he thinks it’s funny. I think it’s funny that he still thinks of himself as my husband.”

  I got to my feet, holding my amulet. Elsie pushed to her feet, clutching her sword.

  “He’s charged me to bring you back to him,” I told her. “But I think you’ll have to face the council for the witches you’ve killed.”

  She laughed. “I see. You must be his personal messenger. I noticed the amulet you wear, Molly. So much power for one old witch. What do you plan to do with it?”

  “This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

  “You won’t do anything with it.” Her voice cracked and thinned. “He won’t let you. It’s hard for me to believe you even have it. Where did you find it?”

  “He gave it to an ancestor of mine, I think.” I thought telling her might crack her shell of amusement. I was right—I was also sorry.

  Portia’s appearance began to shift and change like a kaleidoscope. Colors whirled and danced until there was nothing left of her.

  Nothing human anyway.

  Elsie caught her breath, but stood her ground. I swallowed hard, wishing I had a swor
d too. I went to the other side of the table, where Dorothy lay prone on the floor, and picked up Olivia’s staff.

  “It won’t do you any good against that thing,” Olivia hissed a warning. “You need your magic, Molly. You can’t bludgeon it.”

  I knew she was right, but the feel of something sturdy to defend myself made me feel better about facing the sea witch. We’d wanted to see her true form. We didn’t need a spelled mirror now.

  Portia’s body turned into something green and wrinkled. She resembled a large cucumber that was going bad. There were prickly spines all over her. Her long, beautiful silver hair shriveled and turned green. Her hands became like lobster claws with spines on them. Her mouth was a hideous gaping maw filled with sharp teeth.

  All that remained the same were her very human blue eyes. They were the same eyes I’d seen on the witch burned at the stake in my dream. I immediately felt pity for her as well as a kind of empathy. What had he done to her? She would have been better off dead.

  “Look out, Molly,” Elsie warned. “She’s coming after you.”

  CHAPTER 36

  I am a witch,

  I do not fear.

  I hold my magic strong.

  I do not fear.

  “I’d like my amulet back, witch,” the sea creature that had been Portia said as she leapt toward me. “He had no right to give it away. He knew I’d be back for it.”

  I was mindful of the spikes on her claws. I had a feeling that was what Joe and Suzanne remembered stinging them in the back. No doubt those spines contained poison.

  “It’s mine now. It’s been in my family for hundreds of years.” I held the staff between us.

  “Magic, Molly,” Olivia reminded me. “Do something with your magic. You can’t hold her off with the staff. And you might break it.”

  I glanced up at her. “Seriously? This thing is trying to kill me. You can’t even use the staff anymore.”

  “Yes, but who knows what will happen to me if the staff is destroyed.”

  I couldn’t disagree with that.

  “Just give me the amulet,” Portia’s new form demanded. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve been as deceived by MacLir as I was.”

  “You killed those boys,” Elsie shouted. “Don’t think we feel sorry for you.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt them either,” the sea witch said. “Every hundred years I must return to the land and mate with a witch. If I don’t, I’ll die. I’ve fought to stay alive. I won’t give up now. I’ve found the right one, finally. I don’t need any others. Give me the amulet. Leave me in peace. I swear you won’t see me again.”

  I couldn’t help it. I felt bad for her. She was right. This was what the Bone Man had made of her. None of it was her doing except for keeping herself alive.

  But I had to harden myself against her. It was obvious she was talking about Brian being her last victim. While I felt pity for her, I couldn’t let her kill him—if she hadn’t done so already. Logic told me that we wouldn’t have found her here if she’d finished her deadly ritual. She’d be back in the sea and far away by now.

  “Olivia’s right,” Elsie shouted as I tried to keep the sea witch from taking my amulet. “We need magic to fight her.”

  “I’m working on it.” I pushed the sea witch back with the staff. “I can’t think of a spell. Can you?”

  Her forehead furrowed. “I’m thinking of a protection spell. Remember that wonderful spell that makes a shield? Maybe that would work.”

  “Maybe—if I could remember it.”

  “It’s something like Protect me now from harm and fear. Lead me to shelter that is near.” She panicked. “Oh dear. That’s all I can remember.”

  “The enchanted bubble,” Olivia called out. “You just did that, Molly. Use the enchanted bubble.”

  “That won’t keep her out,” I reminded Olivia. “I need something stronger.”

  The sea witch’s mouth opened to laugh at me. “Poor Molly. You can’t fight me with water magic. I am water magic.”

  Her spiny claws were getting closer. I couldn’t hold her back much longer.

  “Oh, the hell with it!” Elsie yelled out a spell and held her sword high. It burst into flames just like the image we’d seen in the spelled mirror. “Begone, I command thee!”

  The sea witch made a horrible shrill noise and reached for her.

  Elsie swung her blade without an instant of hesitation. She chopped off one of the sea witch’s claws. The creature cried out in pain and anger. The smell was terrible. I hit her with Olivia’s staff, using one hand while clutching the amulet with the other.

  The sea witch ran out the door. Elsie and I stood paralyzed for a moment. It only took that long before the glamour affecting the guesthouse was gone too.

  The guesthouse was in no better shape than the main house. The roof had collapsed and the windows were broken. There was no furniture. Everything around us that had made the guesthouse hospitable was gone.

  “She’s gone.” I realized that wasn’t a good thing. Though I was afraid for my life, I ran through the debris to find her. There was no sign of her outside in the yard or in the street. She might have looked like a cucumber, but she moved like a jellyfish.

  Dorothy was sitting up and holding her head when I returned. “What happened? Where’s Portia? Did I miss something?”

  Elsie pushed back her hat and carefully sat on what had once been an old sofa. “That’s a long story.”

  “It can’t be that long.” Dorothy glanced at her watch. “We’ve only been here for twenty minutes.”

  “We should talk while we search for Brian. I have a feeling he’s in here somewhere. It’s unlikely she’d let him out of her sight if he’s the right witch for her.” I set down Olivia’s staff.

  “That was a close one, girls,” Olivia commented. “Wait. I see Brian over there. I can’t believe that sea witch’s glamour was so good that we didn’t even notice him. Where do you think she learned to do that?”

  “What?” Dorothy frowned. “The sea witch? She was here?”

  We pushed aside old chairs and fallen pieces of the ceiling and walls to reach the tattered bed where Brian lay. Olivia kept a running commentary to explain what had happened after Dorothy had passed out.

  “I guess I was lucky I didn’t end up like Joe and Suzanne,” Dorothy said. “What about Brian?”

  Elsie put her hand on Brian’s forehead. “He’s dead. She must have finished the spell before we got here. She was just playing with us.”

  Dorothy sat beside him and took his hand, heedless of the spider-infested, moth-eaten draperies around her. “He can’t be gone. There must be a spell or something to bring him back.”

  “We don’t bring back the dead, Dorothy,” Elsie said. “It’s just not done.”

  “I’ve read about it in some of the books at the shop.” Dorothy cried as she argued.

  I covered her hand with mine. “We don’t do that kind of magic. The price is too high. When it’s someone’s time to die, we have to respect it.”

  “What’s the price?” Dorothy yelled. “I’ll pay it. I don’t care. He can’t be dead. How can it be his time to die when the sea witch killed him?”

  “You don’t understand,” Elsie said. “The price is another life. Another soul that isn’t ready to go. You can’t pay that price. You’d hate yourself.”

  “We have to save him.” She fell on top of him. “I can’t lose him this way.”

  Despite the shock and sadness of Brian’s death, Elsie and I realized we couldn’t let Dorothy continue grieving in this way until her emotional magic was triggered and she did something she’d regret.

  Together we recited a sleeping spell that we’d used to help when both our children had colic as babies. It would ease her sorrow until she had a chance to live with her loss for a while.

 
“It’s for the best,” Elsie said when Dorothy was asleep beside Brian on the bed.

  “I know.” I wiped the tears from my eyes. “I don’t know what to do now.”

  Elsie leaned on her sword with the point jammed into the wood floor. “The sea witch is gone. You can’t take her back to the Bone Man. We can’t take her to the council for justice. Brian is dead. We screwed up.”

  “There has to be something we can do.” Olivia ghost-stroked Dorothy’s dark hair. “My poor baby.”

  “We can’t leave him,” I said. “We have to get him—and Dorothy—out of here.”

  “We should take him back to the shop,” Olivia replied. “We have to call Cassandra and his parents. Oh, girls, this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to us.”

  Elsie pointed at the sea witch’s claw that she’d lopped off. “I know we can’t do anything about it right now, but later maybe we can use this to lure her back and kill her.” She stabbed it with the sword and wrapped it in her scarf. “I never liked that scarf anyway.”

  CHAPTER 37

  All deeds great and all deeds small,

  All deeds must balance through it all.

  Elsie and I managed to get Dorothy and Brian to the car. It was part magic and part physical strength. We were both exhausted by the time we were done.

  We took them to Smuggler’s Arcane. Dorothy was awake and a little calmer when we got there. She checked on Brian again. He was slumped in the backseat beside her. “He’s cold. I guess you were right. He’s dead. What do we do now, Molly?”

  “I’m so sorry.” I got out of the car and hugged her as we cried. “We should call his family and let them know.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening.” She put her hand to her forehead. “He was supposed to be all right now. We were supposed to win. We’re the good guys.”

  It wasn’t easy to get Brian into the shop. It didn’t seem right to ask Dorothy to use her magic to transport him inside—besides, it was still daylight and there were shoppers at the other stores in the Cotton Exchange. We couldn’t risk it.