The Seventh Witch

by Shirley Damsgaard

  “I must go tell Sister,” Aunt Dot said, her face wreathed in a big smile.

  Abby laid a hand on her arm, stopping her. “Let it wait until morning, Aunt Dot. I really don’t want to talk to her tonight.”

  As she said it, I noticed the stress written on her face—her mouth looked pinched and dark circles shadowed her eyes. Crossing over to her, I placed both hands on her shoulders. “We’ll take care of your bags, Abby, so why don’t you go lie down? You look like you need a rest.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “Thank you, dear. I think I will. I need time to absorb everything that’s happened today.”

  After Abby left the room, with Tink carrying her bags, no one spoke. The silence grew until Mom broke it.

  “What in the devil is the Seven Sisters?”

  “It’s a circle of seven stones, kind of like Stonehenge, Mom,” I replied, sinking down on a kitchen chair. “It’s on the other side of the clearing where Dad fell, and Annie put it in a life estate for Granny Doran years ago.”

  I didn’t know if she knew Abby’s history with the place, so I kept my mouth shut.

  “Have you seen it, Edward?” she asked suspiciously.

  Dad’s eyes lit up at the thought. “No, but I’d like to.”

  I blew out a long breath. “I think it was built by the same ancient culture that created the burial mound, but right now, Dad, it would be best if you stayed away.”

  Mom’s eyebrows shot up. “Why? If Abby owns—”

  “It’s cursed, Maggie,” Lydia broke in quietly. “Has been ever since the Dorans got their hands on it. No one goes there.”

  “If it’s such a nasty place, why is everyone fighting over it?”

  “Mom,” I said, trying to explain, “it once was a very sacred place, a place of great power, and it was special to Annie. Granny Doran wanted it because of that.”

  “She tried using the power?”

  “Yes.”

  “Against us?”

  “I think she probably tried to use it against anyone who ticked her off, but it didn’t work.”

  “Well,” Mom said, rising to her feet, “I think it’s obvious what needs to be done, then. All of you just go, do a little magick to cleanse the place, and take it back.” She gave a satisfied nod at her solution.

  I placed my hands over my eyes and gave my head a shake. “Mom, it’s not that easy,” I said, removing my hands. “It’s complicated. Great-Aunt Mary should’ve stopped Sha—”

  Aunt Dot suddenly shot out of her chair and hustled over to the stove. “I don’t want to discuss this anymore. I’ll make everyone some tea and then tomorrow morning Abby and Sister will talk and everything will be fine. They can’t stay mad at each other.”

  I shot Mom and Lydia a skeptical look. I didn’t want to upset Aunt Dot, but I’d never seen Abby so angry.

  Aunt Dot saw me and gave me a mutinous stare. “They will work it out,” she insisted. “Annie loved Sister, too, you know. She wouldn’t want the family split.”

  “I know, Aunt Dot,” I said gently, “but Great-Aunt Mary should’ve told Abby about her conversation with Elsie.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Sister wasn’t thinking right. She was crushed when Annie died. You mustn’t hold what she did against her,” she pleaded.

  I felt so sorry for her. Crossing to the stove, I threw my arm around her shoulder. “I’ll talk to Abby tomorrow, okay?”

  “You’ll convince her to forgive Sister?” she asked with a sniff.

  “I’ll try.”

  She took a corner of her apron and wiped her eyes. “Y’all must be hungry.”

  Not really, I thought, but I didn’t say it. Aunt Dot needed something to take her mind off the family fracas, and what better way than feeding everyone? She whirled around, stoked the stove, and set the kettle on to boil. Mom popped out of her chair and hurried over to help her.

  I looked at Lydia and she just shook her head. “If y’all are going to be okay, I’ll go on home now. Mac’s probably wanting his supper. I’ll check in tomorrow.”

  And with that she was gone.

  After supper, Aunt Dot, Mom, Dad, and I spent the rest of the evening watching TV and trying to relax. Great-Aunt Mary and Abby didn’t join us. Like two fighters going to their own corners, they stayed in their respective rooms.

  And poor Tink—she’d grown close to Great-Aunt Mary, but she worshipped Abby. I saw her divided loyalty written on her face. She spent most of her time running back and forth, checking on one, then the other. Great-Aunt Mary may have been unkind to me, but part of me hoped Abby would forgive her.

  And me? I had problems focusing. With all the drama that afternoon, I’d almost forgotten about my rendezvous with Ethan, but now I found myself stealing glances at the ticking clock. And with each passing hour, my nervousness increased.

  How could I slip out of the house with everyone there? What if Ethan didn’t show up? Did Sharon see him with us in the woods and rat him out to her uncle?

  Finally, Mom gave Dad the high sign. “Come on, Edward, let’s get back to Lydia’s. All this excitement has worn me out.”

  I looked over at Tink, curled up in front of the TV. “Are you staying here or going with Grandma and Grandpa?”

  “I think I should stay here.”

  Dad rose slowly to his feet, gave Tink a pat on the head, and Aunt Dot and I hugs. Together, he and Mom left.

  I glanced at the clock again. Two down, two to go.

  “You know,” I said nonchalantly, “I think I need some fresh air—”

  “I’ll go with you,” Tink said, popping up from the floor.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” I said quickly as I pointed to the clock. “It’s past your bedtime.”

  Tink rolled her eyes. “I’m on vacation.”

  “I don’t care. You still need a good night’s sleep.”

  “She’s right, darlin’,” Aunt Dot piped in as she slowly rose to her feet. “Why don’t you help me back to my room? All this sitting around tonight has caused my old knees to stiffen.”

  Without an argument, Tink took Aunt Dot’s arm, and after a quick “Love ya,” to me, escorted her back toward her bedroom.

  Once they were out of sight, I crossed to the kitchen, grabbed my jacket, and quietly snuck out the door.

  The full moon shining over the valley made it almost as bright as day, and I had no problems seeing my way over to the stand of trees where I’d agreed to meet Ethan. Once there, I paced back and forth while my fears raced through me.

  What would I do if he didn’t show up? Go to the Dorans? Go to the cave? You need a plan, Jensen, I thought.

  Suddenly, Ethan stepped from the shadows. “You look like you’re nervous.”

  I skidded to a halt. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Awhile,” he said, and I saw him smile in the moonlight. “Now what’s this about poisons?”

  “I followed through with your idea—that Sharon isn’t much of a witch…” The words poured out as I told him about the sheep, the well, Maybelle’s rash, our visit with Elsie. “And,” I finished breathlessly, “I think she poisoned Oscar Nelson.”

  “He died of a stomach hemorrhage.”

  I scuffed a toe of my tennis shoe in the dirt. “That’s what everyone keeps saying, but I think she killed him.”

  “Do you have proof?”

  “No, but wouldn’t the arrow prove she took a shot at us?” I said hopefully.

  “You can buy those arrows in any sporting goods store in the county.”

  “Wouldn’t there be fingerprints?”

  “Maybe, but unless hers are on file, we don’t have a set to compare them to.”

  “Can’t you get her prints?” I replied stubbornly.

  “Not without a warrant.”

  “Details, details,” I said with a wave of my hand. “What about the Dorans?”

  “Huh? Are you asking me if I have their fingerprints?”

  “No, I’m asking if you’ve noticed any
thing odd.”

  He chuckled. “You mean other than they’re some of the biggest drug manufacturers around here?”

  “Not that—poison.”

  “You’ve got a one-track mind, don’t you, Jensen?” he asked with a shake of his head. “And what would I be looking for? A bunch of bottles with skulls and crossbones on them?”

  “No,” I said, my voice exasperated. “Bags of herbs, a few toadstools, a basket of snakes…hell, I don’t know…I’m not an expert in poison.”

  “Just love spells, hey?” he teased.

  I felt hot blood rush to my face. “Not those either.” I gave a big sigh. “This is important. She’s got to be cooking up her nasty brew somewhere, and I don’t think she’d do it at home. Does she have—” I clapped my hands together and grabbed his arm. “Come on, I want to check something out.” I took off at a fast clip, pulling him with me.

  He stopped and I slid in the grass. “Where are we going?”

  “I think I might know where she keeps her stuff…trust me.” I gave his arm a tug.

  He didn’t budge. “The last time you said trust me, we found a basement full of bodies.”

  I yanked on his arm. “No bodies this time, I promise.”

  Turning away from him, I crossed my fingers and hoped I was right.

  Thirty-Three

  Dappled moonlight covered the forest floor as we made our way to the Seven Sisters. Sharon was fighting so hard to keep that little parcel of land in her family. There had to be a reason. I knew it wasn’t the power that lay among those stones—she hadn’t been able to tap into it. If she had, she wouldn’t have needed to use dirty tricks and poison to strike fear throughout the valley. Her magick would’ve been strong enough to accomplish most anything.

  No, she was using the fact that everyone was afraid of the clearing to hide her activities. She could try casting her spells, brew her noxious potions, and do pretty much whatever else she wanted without fear of discovery. Her only witnesses were the spirits of the ancient people who once lived and died here.

  I shivered recalling their rage. The gentleness that Annie and Abby had sensed lurking among the stones was gone, and if that anger were ever released again…I shuddered once more.

  Ethan suddenly turned. “Are you cold?”

  “What, ah, no,” I stammered. “I’m fine.”

  He chuckled. “My grandma always said a sudden shiver means someone just stepped on your grave.”

  “Do you mind?” I asked, giving his shoulder a nudge. “I’d rather not talk about graves right now.”

  His eyes scanned the forest, then he nodded. “It is spooky out here, isn’t it?”

  I snorted softly. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, slick. Wait until we get to the Seven Sisters.”

  “Seven Sisters?”

  “The stone circle.”

  “Right, in the clearing.”

  Together we continued our journey. Ethan walked ahead as quietly as a phantom, while I followed behind. And not silently. I seemed to step on every twig, every branch. Next to him, I felt clumsy.

  Finally we reached the edge of the clearing. On the other side of the trees was the Seven Sisters. I reached out and touched Ethan’s back.

  “Wait a minute,” I said, taking a deep breath.

  He looked over his shoulder at me. “Is something wrong?”

  “No…” My words faltered. How did I explain to him how this place made me feel? How did I explain the need to shield myself? “Um, I’m…ah…sensitive to the atmosphere here and I…need to gather my thoughts,” I finished lamely.

  His brows knitted while his eyes traveled around the clearing. “I see what you mean.”

  My eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” He turned and faced me. “The air feels—I don’t know how to describe it—well, smothering.”

  I was impressed at his sensitivity. Did he have his own intuitive gifts? I’d never considered that before. But I didn’t have time to dwell on that now. I pushed away the thought and concentrated on the task at hand. Closing my eyes and taking another deep breath, I formed my psychic barrier as I had before, only this time I expanded it to also encompass Ethan.

  With a smile, I jerked my head toward the trees. “Let’s go.”

  When we cleared the trees surrounding the Seven Sisters, he abruptly stopped.

  In the moonlight, the Seven Sisters, choked with kudzu, were even more ominous than during the day. Great hulking shapes desolate and abandoned, like giants bound to the earth by chains. Ethan tensed. “This is not a good place, is it?”

  “No,” I answered with a slight shake of my head. “Not anymore. This way, around to the back of the stones.”

  I had only gone as far as the center of the circle, and if Sharon were using this place, I suspected it would be in the grove of trees behind the circle.

  While we edged around the Seven Sisters, the sense of heaviness that Ethan and I felt increased. As it sank down on us, I felt my shield buckle and wrinkle. Instinctively, I grabbed his arm. Instantly his energy—strong, even protective—joined with mine, and my shield held.

  Finally, when we reached the trees, the tension lifted. I wiped the sweat that I hadn’t felt until now from my forehead.

  I dropped his arm while my eyes searched the woods for some kind of sign to guide me to Sharon’s hideaway. But all I saw were the trees and the mountains looming over us.

  “Where to now, Jensen?”

  Throwing up my hands, I did a three sixty. “I don’t—”

  I ducked as something swooped past us. Covering my head, I looked sideways toward the trees. “Please tell me that wasn’t a bat.”

  “Not unless bats have feathers,” Ethan chuckled.

  “Like you didn’t duck, too,” I replied with a sneer as I straightened and looked up at the nearest tree.

  Yellow eyes glowed at me while the moonlight reflected off the creamy feathers covering the bird’s breast and underbelly. Sharp talons clung to the low branch. He opened his hooked beak and let out a rasping scream that sent the leaves rustling as prey fled for cover.

  I guess I had my sign.

  The hawk suddenly spread his wings and effortlessly rode the air currents into the night sky.

  Grabbing Ethan’s hand, I tugged. “Come on before we lose him,” I cried.

  “We’re following a bird?”

  I shot him a look over my shoulder. “Yeah,” I said full of excitement. “I’ll explain later.”

  “Talk about a wild-goose chase,” he muttered, but followed me anyway.

  I kept the bird in sight, trying not to trip as I ran deeper into the grove of trees. When he veered to the left, I did the same. Slowly, the bird circled lower and lower until he came to rest on a low hanging branch.

  A low hanging branch right next to a weathered shack. We’d found it.

  I sent a silent thank-you, and once again the hawk took flight. With strong wings beating the air, he soared above me until finally he disappeared above the treetops.

  Ethan came to a stop next to me and gave me a poke to draw my attention. “Don’t you think we’ve more important things to do than bird watching?”

  I felt like saying “ta-da” but didn’t. Instead, I pointed at the weathered shack, no bigger than a storage shed, sitting in front of us.

  “There,” I said with a cocky grin. “Bet you anything it’s Sharon’s.”

  When we reached the shack, Ethan clutched the plywood door and gave it a firm yank. It swung open, its rusty hinges creaking.

  Whatever was inside rushed at me with a whoosh. My arms flew to cover my face. Evil…decay. I fell two steps back and would’ve run had Ethan not grabbed me.

  “What’s wrong with you?” He gave my arm a little shake.

  “I—I don’t think I want to go in there,” I stuttered.

  “It’s an abandoned shack.”

  “No, it’s not,” I insisted. “Bad things have happened in that shack.”

  Rolling hi
s eyes, he tipped his head back and sighed. “I didn’t come all this way not to check it out,” he said, looking at me again. “I’m going in.”

  “Be careful.”

  With another roll of his eyes, he turned and crossed back to the shack. A moment later I saw the light of a lantern come through the open door. The shades on the two cracked windows suddenly dropped when Ethan closed them.

  Curious, I took a tentative step toward the door and craned my neck to see inside. Nothing. I was too far away. Oh what the heck. I took a deep breath and joined Ethan inside.

  “I thought you didn’t want to come in,” he said over his shoulder while he wandered around the small space, looking at the jars lined up on shelves.

  “Well, I’m in now. Are you finding anything?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, reaching out to touch a cast-iron pot sitting on the potbelly stove.

  “Don’t touch that!” I yelled.

  He spun around.

  “It might have residue on it.” I wandered over to the shelves. Clear jars, some containing liquid, some containing dried herbs, sat in neat rows. I peered at the faint labels.

  Angel’s trumpet, black henbane, bloodroot, water hemlock—all names I recognized from Elsie’s books. Sharon had quite a cornucopia of poisons. I turned and spied a terrarium sitting on an old table. It was half full of wood shavings. I stepped closer to have a look.

  I backed up when I heard the hiss followed by the ominous sound of a rattle.

  With a trembling finger, I pointed at the table. “There’s a snake in there.”

  “It’s okay. There’s a screen nailed across the top. He can’t get out.”

  Shuddering, I rubbed my arms. “Sharon’s a real Lucretia Borgia of the mountains,” I said, my lip curling. “She’s got enough poison in here to make everyone in this valley sick, if not kill them.” I crossed over to Ethan. “When are you going to arrest her?”

  “Making poison isn’t illegal,” he said, crouching down and lifting the material hanging around the bottom of the table.

  “It’s not?” I said, disheartened.

  “No.” He reached under the table and pulled out a large plastic bag. “But this is,” he said, holding it up to the light.