by Lily Luchesi
"Me too, hon. When I think of what might have happened, I get the chills. But she's okay. Her dad came in and they're talking to the cops now. I'm sticking a bit longer to answer questions. Fortunately, I was just comin' off my shift."
"You're a good man, Joe. I see good things for you in the future."
"I was happy to help." Joe hung up.
May set down the phone, face down on the glass display case. "You will never do magic."
"It was a fluke!"
"You don't believe, so the magic will never do your bidding. You do not give, only take, so the magic will not serve you. It was a mistake to cover for your lacks. I put others at risk by doing so. This was my restitution. He will offer me payment, but I will not take it. Nor will you."
"Are you threatening me?" Sylvia demanded, eyes widening. She took a menacing step forward and stopped when Samhain growled at her, bristling under the counter. On the counter, arrayed in a row, were four black cats: one slim as a Siamese but sleek black, one with lustrous long black fur and tufts at his ears, a third black but with curling hair, and the last with plain short black hair but ears pulled back so she looked like a panther. All glared at her with angry green eyes.
"You should have gotten those cats declawed. They're a menace."
"My familiars are not the menace. Not for anyone with a decent soul. You are the menace to those who come to you for guidance, wisdom, support, and solace. You care for no one but yourself and cheat them of what you promise. For that, you will no longer have my help."
"You don't think I'm scared of you, do you?" Sylvia scoffed, though she struggled to hide her fear.
"I'm not the one to fear," May said and perched back on her stool, calling her pets to her.
The door swung open violently, sending the bell clanging. Two men in suits came in. One looked at his notebook. "I'm looking for a Sylvia West."
"I'm Sylvia West," she said with a welcoming smile. "How can I help you gentlemen?"
"I'd like you to answer a few questions."
"Delighted to," Sylvia said with a smug eyebrow aimed at May. "My rates are very reasonable."
The other man shook his head. "'Fraid those aren't the kind of questions we want to ask. I'm Detective Siggins and this is Detective Right. We want to ask you questions regarding the attempted murder of Evelyn Mabley."
Sylvia's angelic blue eyes widened in shock. "What?"
Detective Right said, "You'd likely prefer to have this conversation downtown. Why don't you come with us?"
"No. No, the charge is ridiculous. I hardly know the woman," Sylvia said. "Why would I have anything to do with it?"
"Well," said Siggins. "We found this." He showed her the invoice. "And Mr. Mabley insists you were the one who had changed her heart pills she takes nightly with a pill made with," and he scrunched his eyes at his notepad, "belladonna. He said, if he'd wanted to kill her, he could have just switched her pills with his penicillin which she's deathly allergic to. And which look a helluva lot more like her pills than these." He held up a baggie with blood red capsules. "That's what alerted Ms. Mabley to the switch, that these pills looked so different from her usual ones. That's why she called us."
Right continued from there. "You should know that Mr. Mabley has already admitted to colluding with you to commit this crime. However, he has something of a suspicious past so we're not charging you—yet. It's possible he's just pushing this off on you as his latest, er, sidepiece."
"That must be it. I don't think I've ever seen Mrs. Mabley and certainly don't hold any malice toward her."
Siggins gave her something of a side-eye. "Is this not your signature on this invoice promising a death hex? Can you tell me who this spell was to be used against, this spell Mr. Mabley requested, that you agreed to do, and, in fact claimed to have performed?"
"I would never actually cast such spells," Sylvia said at once.
The detectives shared a look. The first one spoke, "So you're saying you charged Mr. Mabley more than $1200 for services you didn't perform and had no intention of performing?"
"No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm saying, magic is just hokum. You officers should know that."
Siggins nodded. "So, now your position is you're a charlatan shaking down customers with simulated magical abilities?"
"Yes—no! It's—it's like performance art."
The detectives shared another look. Siggins asked, "Why didn't you inform us that Mr. Mabley wanted you to kill his wife?"
"I didn't really take him seriously—"
Right said, "How long have you been having an affair with Mr. Mabley?"
"Not long," Sylvia said vaguely. "I had no idea he was married until just recently."
May rolled her eyes, then blushed slightly when Siggins raised a brow and noted something on his notebook.
"How many times were you in the Mabley residence?" Siggins asked.
"Once or twice. Not often."
"Neighbor said he'd seen you there nearly every night for a week when Mrs. Mabley was out of town visiting her mother."
"He must be mistaken. My Aunt May can vouch for me. We both live here."
"Is that true, er, Ms. May—"
"West," May supplied. "You're so adorable. Who knew when you stole those fireworks in seventh grade that you'd grow up to be a police officer? And a detective, too. Your parents must have been shocked."
Siggins blushed. "Ms. West, can you vouch for the whereabouts of Ms. West for the nights of June 17th through the 24th?"
"Dear me, no. We both live in this building, but I live with my lover, not her," May said, with a hearty cackle. "I have no idea what she does at night."
"I want to speak to my lawyer," Sylvia said, paling.
"Excellent idea. And, I presume, your lawyer is Mr. Mabley. You're in luck. He's already downtown. If you'd follow me, we won't be needing cuffs, Ms. West. You have the right to remain silent…" Right had managed to position himself behind Sylvia so, when she took a wild look around for escape, there was none to be had. Her shoulders slumped. She followed Siggins out as he Mirandized her.
Well, said Samhain, when you go for vengeance, you go all out.
"I had nothing to do with that. Dabbling with the dark arts when she had so little power. She's lucky to be alive. But I fear the spell of love she cast on Mabley—who really is too self-involved to love anyone else properly—means she might not be able to extricate herself from this mess." She sighed. "I tried, Michelle, I tried. But she had none of you in her, only her father."
She closed her eyes wearily, then went and put the "closed" sign up.
"I'm tired. Let's call it a night, Sam."
It's barely past five.
"I'm tired. I'm disgusted with myself for the risk I took with others. I may need other acts of reparation before the scales are balanced."
The life and well-being of a little girl weighs heavily, my sweet. I don't fear for your karma. Not now.
"I'm sick for the girl we barely saved. I'm sad for my sister's only child and what she chose to be. And I'm tired of this stupid glamor. I want to be myself."
A fine suggestion. I know a were-hellhound who does a killer massage. And you need a new hiding spot for your books. I think I can help with that as well. I'll also prepare a bill for six months of back rent for a Ms. Sylvia West.
"You're the vindictive one," May said, Ostara and Solstice on her shoulders.
* * *
Everyone knew she was the best witch in town. Joe Fritz, one of the town's five taxi drivers would tell you, if you asked, about the time she saved a little girl. Everyone who had a little something special they needed: an ointment, a blessing, or a little spell, perhaps a spot of tarot, would find a way to her shop door, Maybel's Witchery. There she'd greet them, a tall stately witch in black and purple to match her flowing black hair and sparkling violet eyes.
And always a splash of color for whimsy.
The End
* * *
About the Author
/> Although Stephanie Barr is a slave to three children and a slew of cats, she actually leads a double life as a part time novelist and full-time rocket scientist. People everywhere have learned to watch out for fear of becoming part of her stories. Beware! You might be next!
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Tarot Queen
Beast Within (First of the Bete Novels)
Nine Lives (Second of the Bete Novels)
Twice the Man (Third and final Bete Novel)
Saving Tessa
Musings of a Nascent Poet
Curse of the Jenri
Ideal Insurgent
The Taming of Dracul Morsus
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The Library at Castle Herriot
Add a Cup of Chaos
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Conjuring Dreams: Learning to Write by Writing
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Pussycats Galore
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BLOOD SACRIFICE
A Wayfield Witches Story
S. K. Gregory
About
The town of Wayfield holds many secrets, including a coven of witches.
Veronica has always been a solitary witch, but when her plan to summon the Dark One himself fails, she must work with the other witches to bring him to earth. She is losing her power and only he can restore it. But that will take a sacrifice, one Veronica is more than willing to make, no matter what it is….
Copyright © 2020 Blood Sacrifice by S. K. Gregory
All Rights Reserved
1
“Damn it all to Hell!” Veronica screeched, smashing her hands into her altar, sending bone fragments flying. She felt them slice into her palms, but she didn’t care. She welcomed the pain.
Getting to her feet, she started pacing the clearing, trying to figure out a way to get his attention. She tried everything, animal sacrifices, blood magic, even the O’Carroll girl from down the road. Nothing.
Tipping her head back, she looked up at the night sky above her. “Why have you forsaken me?” The only answer was an owl hooting in a nearby tree. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to calm down. There had to be another way.
Maybe if there were more witches? She preferred to practice alone, but if she could get a coven together, that might be enough to draw him out. He could ignore a single call, but not thirteen at once.
I would sell my soul for one more audience with him. It was a pity she already did sell it, years ago, in return for her power. At the time she thought she got a pretty sweet deal, more power than she knew what to do with, but that changed. The last year saw her power weaken, fade, until she barely recognized it. At first, she thought it was the hormonal changes her body was going through, but it was something more. Her power was slipping away and there was nothing she could do about it. At least not by herself. But if she could reach him, she could bargain for more power. She would give him anything he wanted.
Yes, a coven might be the only way to do it, but it would also mean that the women would want something too. If she could make sure that she was the spokesperson for the group, she could negotiate the deal for herself. They could have whatever was left over. Most of them would ask for trivial things – beauty, youth. It never occurred to them that by having more power they could simply get these things themselves. They still cling to the old ways.
She would have to choose carefully, only women she could manipulate, although that included plenty of women. They were mere sheep to her, tools to get what she wanted.
Gathering her things, she headed home to make a list. One way or another she would get what she wanted.
***
“Let me get this straight,” Hettie Marshall said, a look of disbelief on her pinched face. “You want to conjure the Dark Prince himself?”
“Ssh, don’t say his name,” Dorothy Reynolds said.
Veronica kept her face impassive as she listened to them twitter on. She regretted bringing them all together to her house when she could have spoken to them individually, but this was quicker. Twelve women crammed into one room was a tight squeeze, but a coven of thirteen was the ideal number.
“He isn’t the boogeyman, Dorothy,” Liza said, sipping the tea I’d given her.
“Might as well be,” Dorothy muttered.
“Ladies,” Veronica said sharply, drawing their attention. She smiled and changed her tone, no point in alienating them this early on. “We have an opportunity here to get something we desperately need. Are you honestly saying that there isn’t something lacking in your life? Holly? What about Jim’s illness?”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Well, that’s none of your business,” she said. Veronica hated her snippy attitude, like she was better than the rest of them. She sacrificed small animals on the sabbath just like the rest of them.
“What if he were to be made better? Or maybe he gets worse and you get yourself a new boy toy?”
She sneered at her, but Veronica saw the glimmer in her eyes. She was with Jim because of his money, because it looked good to the neighbors, but she would be out of there if a better offer came along. Veronica couldn’t blame her; Jim was a bore and a lech. It wouldn’t surprise her if Holly was behind his illness.
The town of Wayfield held many secrets. Which gave the locals plenty of things to gossip about. It had been home to witches for centuries and they all lived by one law – don’t let the humans find out that magic exists. A cautious witch is a safe witch, a phrase Veronica heard a lot growing up. So, the witches of Wayfield married humans, got jobs, lived ordinary, boring lives. On the surface at least. Veronica hated having to hide, and she was sure the others did too.
“It’s not that we don’t want to do it, we’re concerned that the Dark Prince will punish us for conjuring him without cause,” Liza said. A few of the others nodded.
“We do have cause. We need his help. Besides it’s not like we won’t be making an offering to appease him.”
“That’s the other thing,” Liza said. “It’s going to have to be a hell of a sacrifice. More than we usually do. None of us want to draw any unnecessary attention.”
“Don’t worry about that, I’ve got it handled,” Veronica said.
All eyes were suddenly on Veronica. “What do you mean?” Joanna asked, leaning forward in the chair she was wedged in, beside Lucy.
“None of us can offer our souls, it’s a little late for that, but I think he will respond with a fresh virgin or two, don’t you?”
They all exchanged looks. “Are you saying you’re going to sacrifice several young girls to him? Are you crazy? The media will be all over that,” Liza said, shaking her head, causing her frizzy brown hair to bounce against her cheeks. She seemed to hate Veronica the most and with good reason. Veronica knew she was the most powerful, the most desirable of them all. The others had given in to the suburban way of life, dressing like soccer moms, letting themselves go. Veronica still turned heads when she walked down the street, with her mane of raven black hair, voluptuous curves and come-hither stare. She could lure any man into her bed. They were jealous of her, which she secretly loved.
“You’ve read the texts too, you know that he specifies that sacrifices must be virginal, but it doesn’t say they have to be young girls.”
Hettie sucked in a breath. “Oh my God, are you going to use nuns?”
Veronica barked a laugh. “Nothing so crass, come with me.”
She led them down into the basement, to the hidden room concealed behind the wall. She watched their faces as she opened the door to reveal what was inside. Chained to the wall, were two overweight guys in t-shirts and shorts. One was dark, the other blond. They both reeked of stale sweat and urine. They’d been here a while.
> “Hey! Let us out of here! This crazy bitch locked us up!” one of them yelled.
“Yeah, you stupid bitch, let us go,” the other whined.
Liza turned to Veronica, her mouth hanging open. “You have got to be kidding me?”
“What? They’re perfect. No one will miss these assholes and you can bet your ass they’re both virgins,” Veronica grinned.
The men started yelling, prompting her to close the door. It was sound proofed; she couldn’t risk anyone hearing them. It wouldn’t do for the respectable Veronica Bradbury to be found with two kidnap victims in her basement. Although there were a few in town who wouldn’t be surprised.
“This is crazy. Who the hell are those guys?” Holly demanded.
“They’re not from around here. I picked them up in a bar, promised them a threesome. They followed me here like lambs to the slaughter.” Luring the men was easy, keeping the glamour in place was harder. It almost slipped a couple times.
“For fuck’s sake, Veronica,” Liza said. “How do you know no one saw you?”
“Because I was glamoured at the time. Don’t worry, I was careful.” She didn’t like the way they questioned her. This was why she preferred working alone, she could do her own thing without argument.
The others started talking amongst themselves, she left them to it and headed back upstairs. They would either join her or they wouldn’t. If not, she would have to go further afield.
A cry rang out from the floor above and Veronica swore. The sleeping potion must have worn off. She made her way upstairs to the small room at the back of the house.
Pushing open the door, she found Lupe holding the crying baby. How anyone managed without a nanny was beyond her.
“Keep her quiet, I have guests,” Veronica snapped.
“Yes, ma’am,” Lupe replied, rocking the little girl in her arms. She hired the woman under the table, knowing she was an illegal. It made her easier to control. She was live in, since Veronica had no intention of losing sleep over 3am feeds.