by Gayle Keo
“They have a place where they are burning Sacred Space, it’s a mystical incense that calms the soul and eases the fire.”
“That could have been the turret,” I said. “But when we drove by this morning it was gone.”
“It’s still there,” Cheryl said. “It’s just on another plane. There are some real and powerful dark arts here. But what really galls me is that Tabitha was able to feed on your pain. She’s more than a witch, she’s a psychic-vampire, she can absorb life forces, and pain is so full of those forces.”
“What about that poor girl and her mother?” Anna asked.
“Safe for the moment,” I said, “but what is it so special about her?”
“Her humors, most likely,” Cheryl said. “The balances in her blood need to match the woman exactly.”
“So they snatch random kids and hope?”I said.
“No,” Donovan said. “I was given very specific instructions when I was her slave.”
“Tabitha searches with her crystal,” Cheryl said. “They test the blood and when it’s a reject they let them go. They have to be stopped.”
“I know,” I said. “Little Emma may be safe, but they’ll keep looking.”
There was a small silence in the room.
“Will you help us?”
***
We made a plan.
I can shift my shape in one of two ways. The way I usually do it is simple mimicry; my body takes the shape of the form I want, but it’s still me inside. The other way is Embracing. When I Embrace I actually become a clone, but that’s complicated. I need real DNA from who or what I wish to copy. If I kiss you or make love with you I get plenty of samples. Getting DNA from a twelve-year-old girl would be tricky.
It took Anna and Cheryl almost an hour to remove Ginny’s spell. I tested and became Anna. That got a good laugh. I shifted back and then we split up. Donovan and Anna went to Balden Street while Cheryl and I went to visit the Cantors.
Jennifer Street was on the east side, a nice quite little street in the gentrified Atwood neighborhood. There was a cop parked opposite their house but he didn’t think much about two women ringing the bell. Mark answered the door.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m Eileen Morgan from the Exposé.”
His expression softened.
“I want to know how you found out,” he said.
“And I do so want to tell you,” I said.
“Cops are looking for you.”
“Well, there’s one over there. You can flag him or you can invite us in.”
He opened the door.
*****
The place was nice but in turmoil. The Cantors also had a small son and the two kids were all upset about being taken out of school and wondering why they had to pack and go off to visit their aunt in Minnesota all of a sudden. Donna gushed over me and hugged and thanked me. She wanted to talk but she wanted to get the kids out of the room.
“It would be better,” I said, “if we all sat down in the living room. My colleague has something to show you.”
We sat in the living room. The kids were curious when Cheryl took the small clay pot from her bag. She lifted the top and a lovely intoxicating aroma of juniper and olives filled the room. Cheryl smiled, sang a soft chant and waved her arms slowly. The Tanners sat still and seemed quite enchanted.
“Now you see,” Cheryl began in a lilting voice, “once upon a time there was a bad man . . .”
She spun a yarn about how we found the guy’s postings on Facebook while I sat by Emma. I took the girl’s arm and pricked it with a needle. She looked at me impassively as the blood beaded.
“Emma,” Cheryl said, “this is the good part.”
The girl turned back to her and before the blood could drip I lapped it up. I pressed the tiny wound as I tasted the warm salty stuff. I had what I needed.
“And so,” Cheryl went on, “you are all so very wise to go to Minnesota for a few days. And, of course, we will be more than happy to house-sit for you. Is that okay?”
So saying she closed the pot and drew them back slowly.
“Oh wow,” Emma said. “Just like, oh wow.”
“That was a cool story,” the boy said. “Is it really true?”
“Of course it is,” Donna said. “Now let’s get packed. If we hurry we can be at Aunt Peggy’s before dark and you can play in her pool.”
The excited kids rushed upstairs. Donna thanked us again for everything, especially the house-sitting. Mark went to explain things to the cop. It took them an hour to pack.
After they had finally left, we went up to Emma’s room. I stripped and got into her bed, snuggling under the covers. Cheryl flinched when she saw my whip marks. I needed to wallow in Emma’s scent and space. I lazed a good long while staring at her things and feeling what she felt.
Then, with the shadow of the taste of Emma’s blood still in my mouth, I stood and began my own chant. An Embracing morph is slow and somewhat painful. Cheryl flinched and I tried not to groan as my body slowly shrank and my hair grew longer.
When it was complete I saw myself in the mirror through such bright eyes. I was twelve. My skin was creamy and my cheeks were blushed with strawberry. But best of all my flaming red hair was like gossamer.
“Get dressed,” Cheryl said.
She led me to the basement. We needed to be close to the earth. She drew a pentangle on the floor with charcoal. I stepped in the center. She lit incense at each of the five points and began a chant. I felt the air stir then the smoke begin to swirl around me.
“Tabatha,” she called softly. “Tabitha yellow-hair.”
It took a few moments, then the whirling air spoke.
“Who?” a small voice in the wind spoke.
“A friend,” Cheryl answered. “A friend with a gift.”
“Oh,” the voice said with an edge of excitement. “Oh dear woman!”
“I am Cheryl long-gown. You will remember me?”
“I will dear Cheryl. I will remember forever.”
And then the air began to glitter. There was a small gust of wind and a sparkle and I felt myself taken and carried away. I flew through the dark and cool of another plane as the lakes rushed beneath me and I was carried in that magic to a house with a turret.
I appeared in that turret room whole and sound but so very frightened. Frightened like a little girl. It was a delicate place. It was a feminine place. It had a round pink bed in the middle canopied with chiffon flutters and there was a sort of pink mist wafting in the sheets. The bed was in the center of a glowing golden pentangle. The walls beyond seemed so dark and through the distant windows I saw stars.
“Emma, you are perfect,” Tabitha said stepping from the shadows.
In the pastel light she looked radiant. The traces of veins on her face were faint and she seemed to glow. Then she stepped to me and she kissed me on the forehead. My little heart trembled.
“You are the one,” Tabitha said smiling. “You are chosen Emma. You are going to live far better than all of the princesses that you can imagine. You are going to live forever now. Just lie here by me on this bed. It will only hurt for a moment, and then . . . immortality.”
I looked at her like a twelve-year-old would. She took my hand and led me to the bed. We lay side by side.
Ginny wheeled in a drip-stand and set a needle into Tabatha’s arm hanging the bag low. The witch’s blood began to flow away. Then she pricked my arm and put the other end into Tabatha. I watched Emma’s blood flow from my arm to Tabatha’s.
“She is the one,” Tabatha sighed.
“This will be slow,” Ginny said caressing my cheek. “Just lie back and relax. Let your heart do the work.
I was going to let them have enough blood to feel that all was well, then I was going to morph into a Banshee. But an Embrace can be a tricky thing and little Emma had other ideas. I felt her heart race with terror. The blood was suddenly surging through my arteries and flooding Tabatha.
“Too fast,” Tabitha gasped, “too much.�
�
Ginny worked the flow valve but then the needle shot out of my arm. My blood spurted across their delicate chiffon bed-curtains spattering Ginny’s face. The woman gasped and Tabitha moaned in agony. I clutched my arm to staunch the bleeding. Ginny slapped me hard across the face and began to try to shove the needle back into me. I screamed.
“Ginny,” a soft voice from nowhere whispered, “Ginny Greenteeth.”
The witch startled and looked around.
“Ginny, would you destroy a child?”
“Who are you?” she cried out.
The swirling pink fog turned blood red and began to whirl faster but no answer came.
“It is just a child,” Ginny said. “Just one child who will live forever in the soul of my dear Tabatha.”
“She is a child,” the voice said.
“You don’t understand,” Ginny wailed, “you cannot understand! I love--”
“Your selfish ways are over, Ginny Greenteeth.”
“Who are you!”
“Crone”
Ginny screamed.
The red mist became a vortex speeding faster and faster as it coned upward, shattering the roof. Suddenly, through the fog, a werewolf sprang with a roar. Both witches shrieked. The wolf grabbed Tabitha and, with the might of Hercules, flung the witch up and into the screeching winds above. Tabatha shrieked as the winds sucked her. Ginny cried out and leapt desperately for her love. She caught a hand as the woman disappeared and, so, she too vanished.
Donovan clenched me desperately on the center of the bed as the winds closed in around us pulling the air from my lungs. I passed out.
I woke in the Cantor’s basement, Donovan holding me tenderly. I was naked and I was myself again. I kissed him long and deep. Then I looked to the smiling witches.
“Okay,” I said. “What happened?”
“Tabatha was so desperate that she was stupid,” Anna said. “By accepting our gift she opened her spirit-plane to us and together Cheryl and I called upon the Moon Goddess Crone. Crone was, well, upset.”
“They’re gone now,” Cheryl said.
“Gone where?”
“Just, gone.”
We drove by the house on Balden Street. There were fire trucks there and a crowd of neighbors watching the turret burn. Cinders danced in the air. We got out to watch. Cheryl and Anna began a chant of cleansing. I looked to Donovan.
“Well,” he said. “You got quite a story.”
“I do,” I said. “Thanks.”
“So, what now?”
“Now, I suppose that now I release you. You’re free.”
He held me by my waist and drew me close.
“You are a skin-walker,” he said. “You hide in other guises, but in truth you’re hiding Eileen.”
“I don’t—“
“You play tough and cynical,” he went on. “But you didn’t put your life on the line for a story, you did it for a little girl. There’s a tender heart behind that bitch facade, and I want to draw it out.”
“Oh Donovan” I said falling into his arms weeping. “Sometimes that bitch feels like a frightened little girl. Stay with me? Please?”
He kissed me full and deep as ashes fluttered around us.
THE END
Another bonus story is on the next page.
Bonus Story 19 of 36
The Peace Treaty
“Your saved twenty-five dollars. Thank you for shopping at Catskill Grocery, have a nice day!”
Maya handed the elderly woman her receipt and watched her go with a heavy sigh. Ringing groceries for eleven dollars an hour was certainly monotonous. She couldn’t wait for the day that she was finished with college so that she could have a better job. That sent a new wave of hopelessness over her, Maya could only go to school part-time because of her family’s financial situation. At twenty-one years old she knew that night time college courses and working at Catskill Grocery were in her immediate and somewhat distant future.
“Why do you look like your about to cry?”
The voice brought Maya back to the present. One of the service clerks, Michael, was at the end of her register studying her intently. She’d known him for about three years, and they’d been in new employee orientation together. Michael was the one thing that made working at the grocery store interesting. He was funny, and they could easily talk about any topic while Maya rang groceries and he bagged them. In fact, they’d received several complaints from customers for their lack of attention to anything else.
Michael was also very attractive; he constantly wore a smirk that made him appear mischievous and cute, and he had warm brown eyes, wavy dark brown hair even though he kept it cropped relatively close to his head. He was so tall that Maya’s head barely grazed his shoulder. Her stomach did a nervous dance whenever he was around, today being no different.
“I’m just having one of those moments where I’m questioning my life choices. Working here, only being able to take two classes a semester, my mom having to raise Gabriella and me on her own. I’m having a pity party, don’t mind me.”
“No, I get it,” Michael replied. “Your family has had it rough.” He was very familiar with Maya’s messed up home life as they’d talked about it many times. “You got to focus on the positive, girl. Sure it’s going to take you longer, but when you finish school, you could be whatever you want. You could write a book, or be a reporter for some news agency. It will mean so much to you and your mother when you finally graduate.” Then his smirk splayed across his face and made Maya weak in the knees. “Plus, don’t hate on Catskill Grocery, you wouldn’t know me if you didn’t need to work to pay off your loans.”
Maya blushed and dropped her eyes to the register. “That’s certainly true.”
Over the three years that she’d gotten to know Michael, something had changed between them. The playful banter between them had become flirtatious, and she found herself play fighting with him whenever he would tease her. Sometimes when he spoke to her, his sentences wouldn’t make any sense, and his face would be as red as hers.
The biggest thing had taken place just over a week ago on a night that she didn’t have class. They’d closed the store, and once they had punched out, they stood out by their cars talking. Just when Maya was about to go, Michael kissed her and told her that he’d been “dying to do that for longer than he could remember.” Maya didn’t sleep that night, even now as she looked at his handsome face and remembered the kiss, she felt like she was on fire.
Part of Maya knew that Michael wanted to be her boyfriend. He didn’t treat anyone else at the store like he treated her. She would be lucky to be with someone so attentive and fun, but she couldn’t confront him about it, at least not yet. There were a few things that gave Maya reservations.
In the three years that she had known Michael, she had shared many details about her life, but she knew nothing about his. Besides the fact that he lived in the same town as the store, she had no idea if his parents were together or divorced, if he had siblings, or even if he’d had another girlfriend before. He kept his life outside of work very private, and it almost made her wonder if there was something that he didn’t want her to know.
The second thing that made Maya lie awake and wonder if there was something going on with Michael was that he was always sick from work several days during the month, every month, for three years. Honestly, Maya wasn’t sure how he got away with it, but there were always a few days that he was missing, and she had no idea what he could be up to. He certainly wasn’t sick, so what was it? Maybe Maya had an overactive imagination, but if she got involved with Michael romantically would it affect her life, too?
“Dude, earth to Maya? You’re on another planet today.” Michael waved his hand in front of her face.
Maya shook her head. “Sorry, I guess I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Let’s do something after work then. I’ll take you to a movie or something.”
Maya felt her heart pounding in her chest. He’d n
ever asked her to go anywhere outside of work before. Then she despaired because she had her British Literature class tonight. “Can I take a raincheck for tomorrow night? I have class at six tonight.”
Michael thought for a minute before he smiled. “That would be great. I’ll warn you, though, it’s going to be a slasher flick.”
“A horror movie? I thought you wanted to reduce my stress?”
Michael’s smile morphed back into his smirk. “How else am I going to get you to cuddle up with me? We clearly can’t do that here.”
Maya balked at his boldness. It didn’t matter because their manager called him to go get shopping carts from the parking lot. Maya watched him walk away and wondered if was going to become harder to fight off her reservations. But, before she could dwell on it longer, a customer came with a huge order, and she had to focus on something else.
*****
Maya sat down in the lecture hall at SUNY Albany, about a thirty-minute drive from her hometown of Whitney. They were supposed to be discussing the final part of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. Maya was relieved because as much as she loved to read, she could not fall in love with this particular old English tale. She quickly tried to scan the story one last time so that she would be prepared for the class discussion.
She didn’t look up from her work when someone slid into the chair next to her. All semester she’d been sitting next to this guy named Ian. They had a whole lecture hall to choose from but every Tuesday and Thursday they would pick the same seats together.
“What’s the next book on the syllabus?” Maya asked aloud, still glancing over Sir Gawain.
“Moving onto some good old William Shakespeare,” Ian replied, glancing at his paper, still in immaculate condition despite it being half way through the semester. “Some Sonnets and then Hamlet.”
“God, I love Hamlet,” Maya replied, genuinely looking forward to the change. She shut her book and smiled at her seat neighbor.
“Who doesn’t?” Ian replied as he pulled out a notebook and tore out a page for her. Maya felt her face go hot as she took in his handwriting. He’d written down notes for her to use during the discussion; not only were there plot lines and character names, but he’d put symbolism and other literary elements on there too.