‘Did you get a hit?’ Bridget has mixed feelings, if it’s Lucy, she needs to head back asap. It would be good and bad.
‘We found a hit, her name is Lucy Lockwood, she was arrested once in 1963.’
‘’63? How old is she?’
‘75, that’s the only thing that doesn’t make sense, but it’s the only lead we have.’
‘I’m coming back.’
‘Don’t worry, Hayes and Connor will go and see her.’
‘Can they wait for me?’ Asks Bridget desperately.
‘You’re not on the case, I just called you because I know you’re worried. Stay in New Orleans, I’ll call you when I know more.’ He hangs up, the Captain has never been one for goodbyes. Damn, she better get going.
Bridget finds Wes in Seamus’ atelier. He works on big pieces of sketching paper. The inspiration is clearly showing; he hadn’t heard Bridget come in. For a little while she admires him working. It quiets her mind.
‘You seem fired up.’ His hand stops, he turns and gives Bridget his lovely smile. She loves how this makes her warm and fuzzy.
‘It’s such a wonderful space. I don’t know, it feels like things are flowing here.’
‘Seamus was a special person; you would have loved him. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I need to head back to Boston.’ Wes’ face falls. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, they found a clue, and I want to be there when they’re confronting Lucy. It’s too dangerous. They don’t realize it.’
Wes looks around the room. ‘Will you be back here?’
‘No doubt, I didn’t get very far with Grandma.’
‘Would you... would you mind if I stay?’
‘What?!’ She must have heard it wrong. This must be Maeve’s doing. Anger boils up in her and before it erupts, she manages to squash it down again. She gives Wes a wry smile.
Wes moves uncomfortably. ‘I was in a bit of a slump. I admit. But look at this.’ He points at the painting he started, ‘I don’t know, but I haven’t been so motivated. It flows out of me right now. I know it’s important that you go back, but this is important to me.’
Bridget can’t deny this is the best she had ever seen of his work.
‘I would like to ride the flow.’
Bridget shakes it off. She wants the best for him, she should say she understands. But it costs her an enormous amount of effort to say, ‘Of course sweetie, I’m sure Tara and Maeve will be happy to have you around. I promise to be back soon.’ She looks around at all the dogs. ‘Would you mind keeping the dogs? I will take Kiki, as she can be in my hand luggage.’
Wes’s face lights up and undoubtedly relieved, he hugs Bridget. ‘You know I love the dogs. Hurry back okay. Are you leaving now?’
‘I will take the first available flight.’
Tara and Maeve finally arrive back at the house. They’re satisfied, the new wards are up. The Book of Shadows had some excellent suggestions. They also decided to work on the properties wards. Now they’re all sweaty, and they need something to drink. Maeve points at Bridget’s bags. ‘She’s leaving.’
‘That was to be expected.’ Tara follows Maeve into the kitchen, Bridget is on her laptop booking a flight. ‘Did it work?’
‘Much better now.’ Tara lowers herself in a chair, and Maeve immediately puts a pitcher of water out.
‘Good. I’m heading back in a couple of hours. You have to be extra careful. Do you mind if Wes stays? He loves it here, and it helps his art.’
‘Of course darling. He’s always welcome. Did you let Luna know? You’re giving her very little notice.’
‘She’s not coming.’ Bridget scoots her stool back and looks defiantly at Tara. Tara stiffly gets up and walks over, she grabs her shoulders and turns her towards her. They stand face to face, and Tara gently brushes some strands of hair out of Bridget’s face. She grabs her face in between both her hands and says quietly ‘Don’t let your pride get the better of you. Use your brain and not always your heart. What do you prefer? Tom in a coma? Or spend a couple of maybe not so fun days with your Mom. Luna is the best, if you want a chance at waking him, she’s it. Grow up.’ She gently places a kiss on both her cheeks. ‘Safe journey, sweetheart. Come back soon. We’ll take care of your boyfriend.’ Tara leaves the kitchen and Maeve pretends to be busy. Bridget let it sink in for a minute. Is she too proud? She wants nothing more than to wake up Tom. So if that means she has to suck it up and spend some time with her Mom, so be it. It will be worth it.
Meanwhile, Diane is laying down on her couch. The curtains are drawn, and she’s tired. She wishes she could turn off the visions, the feelings. Sleeping pills, drugs nothing helps. The scar tissue on her wrist even reminds her of her botched suicide attempt. If it wasn’t for Alice, she would try again. It’s so hard, why did the Goddess put this burden on her? Her mind starts to drift. No. She pinches herself and tries to stay awake. Don’t go to sleep. Don’t go to sleep she repeats to herself. You can try to resist the vision, but in the end it will come, if you want to or not. Unable to fight it any longer, she slips into –
People are running and screaming through the streets of a small village. While trucks, cars, and houses are getting sucked into the vortex of a tornado. People are powerless against its destructive path. It ravages through town, while people run for their lives. On the hilltop, Lucy holds the Dagger of Consciousness. An exhilarating smile on her lips, power flows around her and when she points the dagger again, a new tornado sprouts from the ground. People scamper and run in yet a different direction. A roof flies off an old mansion which morphs into the Madigan’s house.
Tara or maybe it’s Lucy sitting at the kitchen table, and Seamus’ art is scattered all over it. His lively images seem to move, and the vibrant colors jump off the work. Hands sort through the images of the family and stop when they reach Bridget, the old hand caresses the picture.
Again, the vison changes, it morphs to Bridget walking in Boston. She shudders and looks behind her. Nothing. Quickly, she resumes her course when again she feels something. She whips around this time, still nothing. She fingers the amulet Tara had given her. Would it still work?
Back in the kitchen, the hand circles her index finger, a little funnel seems to disappear into the card.
A small tornado on its side reaches for Bridget. She turns and sees it, she tries to run, but the funnel sucks her in. She is lifted from the ground and slung into traffic. Cars come to a screeching halt.
Tara makes her way through the house. Little Lisa, Ron’s daughter, who is only five, plays in the living room. Tara walks over and gives her a wand. It’s Seamus’ wand, his wand was special, not only made from birch wood but it had blue crystals woven through the wood. Lisa is happy, and Tara whispers something in her ear. Lisa walks around the room, and she touches the curtains with the wand. She whispers something and sparkles come from the wand. The sparkle hits the curtain and instantly catches fire. Satisfied, Tara walks away while her face turns into Lucy’s. The subtle changes from sweet Grandma to wicked witch. Lisa giggles and touches the other curtains. Her laughter turns into screams. Maeve runs into the room, it’s ablaze. She can barely grab Lisa and make it out. The flames spread so quickly, not even magic can save the house. The whole house goes up in flames!
Diane gasps for air while she snaps out of her vision. Horror and shock cross her face. And then, she starts to shake uncontrollably.
PART 3
SEVEN OF WANDS ‘STRUGGLE’
‘If there is no struggle, there is no progress.’
—Frederick Douglass
NEW ORLEANS
Bridget’s t-shirt sticks to her back. She had forgotten about the warm and humid weather, the constant sweating. Kiki hangs comfortably from a tote around Bridget’s shoulder, while they stand in front of a cheerful pink door. It has a friendly and inviting feel to it, flower baskets hang next to the door, th
e porch swing moves gently in the breeze. Bridget has still trouble knocking. For the hundred time she goes through all the options in her head, this really seems the only reasonable choice. She has to get a move on; her flight leaves in two hours. She’s cutting it short as it is. Self-doubt is not like her. The door swings open and Ceri smiles at Bridget. ‘Come in! You have been standing there now long enough.’ Bridget follows Ceri inside. The hallway opens up into a bright kitchen, it has all the modern comforts and manages to still be cozy. You know a witch lives here. Although, it’s not as prominent as the family home. No doubt Ceri has lots of normal friends with her fun personality. It’s not always wise to flaunt your knowledge.
Bridget glances around. ‘Where are the kids?’
‘Teenagers are so busy these days. Liam has a soccer game today, and Emily is spending the night at a friend’s house.’
‘So big already!’
‘Time goes too fast. But I doubt you stopped by to see the kids. What’s up?’
Bridget puts her bag down and busies herself with Kiki for a moment. As long as she doesn’t have to ask. The silence stretches, and Bridget blurts it out. ‘I need help.’
A smile forms on Ceri’s face. ‘That must have hurt.’
‘I’m not good at this. My magic sucks and I need some sort of crash course. Could you help me?’
‘Why not Luna? Or Maeve?’
‘Really?! I might as well ask Aunt Freya!’
‘I see, I’m your only choice, that’s not very flattering.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’ Bridget moves uncomfortably.
‘I bet you didn’t. What makes you think I’m any good at magic? I’m generally not highly regarded in the family.’ A hint of disappointment crosses Ceri’s face, but she hides it quickly under her ever-sunny smile.
‘Are you kidding? You’re lit. The only family member to make the papers. Racing a motorcycle on your broom. It’s fabulous.’
‘Ha! You’re probably the only who thinks that.’ Ceri holds her hand up and feels the air around Bridget, she moves up and down about twelve inches from her body.
‘You have plenty of magic, which is no surprise as you’re Luna’s daughter. Your aura doesn’t feel very healthy though. I guess that’s because you’ve been denying your magic.’
‘So, will you do it?’
‘Why don’t you sit down for a minute?’ Ceri offers Bridget a chair and a bottle of water. ‘I’ll do it.’ Bridget sighs in relief. ‘Thank you!’
‘Don’t thank me yet. I’m a big believer in the trial and error approach.’ With a big smile, she plops in the chair opposite Bridget and drinks from her water bottle.
Bridget starts to scoot in her chair. It feels like a wet spot begins to grow on her back.
‘You need to improve your senses.’
‘They’re pretty good, I’m a fine detective.’
‘All your senses. Your magic needs to become an automatic response. You’re always too late if you have to think about it. That’s why Freya always has such trouble. She’s not really in touch with her feelings.’
Bridget is now positive that the spot on her back is growing, she reaches on her back, and she touches something slimy. She jumps up and turns around.
‘Do I have something on my back?’
‘Yes, and it’s growing. What are you going to do about it?’
‘What do you mean?! What is it?’
‘Lesson number one.’ Ceri leans back in her chair, enjoying this.
Bridget becomes irritated. ‘Stop it!’ The spot quickly grows and all but covers her back, it’s slowly makes its way over her shoulders.
‘I would stop whining and feel what kind of spell this is.’
Bridget tries to fight through her anger and frustration, this is apparently what she asked for. What the hell is she going to learn from this?! She desperately tries to quiet her mind. The spot in the meantime covers her torso and drips down to her legs and starts to inch up.
‘It’s pretty harmless, but a bit disgusting if it covers your face. No pressure.’ Says Ceri while she tries her best to suppress a smile.
Bridget could strangle that serene face, but instead, she tries to feel the spell. It’s almost at her mouth and another wave of panic hits her. Stop it! She needs to focus, where is the spell? What is its origin? With her witch eye, she spots a tiny flower stuck on her back. With a flash, she remembers Ceri touching her back when she urges her to sit down. The slime now almost covers her head. Somehow it doesn’t smother her, but it sure is disgusting. She focuses on the flower and tunes everything out; she can actually see some sort of structure. Ceri leans forward as she sees that Bridget finally is latching on to the spell. The spell is made of earth and water, Bridget wedges an imaginary finger between the knot that binds the spell together and gives it a good tug. Nothing happens.
‘It would be nice if it was that easy. Can you hurry up? You’re messing up my kitchen.’
Bridget tries again, this time she doesn’t try to think, but let the words flow naturally.
‘Unbind, unwind, set me free.’ SNAP! The spell is broken.
‘That took you long enough. You need to react instantly, so be prepared. I will send you spells, and you have to break them. Your reaction and senses need to be improved a lot. And I mean A LOT.’
Bridget looks miserable, totally covered in dripping slime.
‘You can use the bathroom down the hall. I will bring you some clothes. This is horrible to get off.’ Ceri can’t hide her obvious delight with the situation. ‘We’re going to have so much fun!’ Bridget shoots her a look that says clearly otherwise.
‘Here is an amulet, you need to wear it at all times. It will allow us to communicate. If you take it off, you can find yourself another teacher.’ Ceri hands her an amulet that looks like a wheel on a leather cord. ‘You better hurry, your flight leaves soon. You don’t want to be late.’
Bridget is cursing in the shower trying to clean off the goo. It’s horrendous! What was she thinking?! She thought Ceri would get a book or something. Her aunt is crazy. But there is no escape now.
BOSTON
In the meantime, Bridget’s colleagues, Detective Hayes and Detective Connor, are walking down a street looking for Lucy’s home. Detective Hayes is a weathered female cop, she isn’t known for her patience. And Connor sure knows how to push her buttons. Connor is not a fan of Bridget after she rejected his advances. ‘Something is not right with Bridget. That story of how Tom got injured doesn’t add up.’
‘You’re only saying that because she didn’t want you.’ Hayes tries to steer clear of gossip.
‘That’s a clear sign. I’m saying you—’
‘We’re here,’ interrupts Hayes.
They look at the charming old Boston home. The little garden is full of cheerful flowers, the house is not big, but is cute and inviting. Laced curtains blow softly in the wind, as the windows are open. Soft classical music drifts from the open window, they can’t help but smile.
Lucy quietly watches the detectives from behind the curtains. She stands a little back, so they can’t see her from the streets. She smiles when she sees that they’re enamored with her house, the spells are working. Lucy checks her own appearance in the mirror. An adorable old lady smiles back at her. Everything you imagine about a loving grandma is shown in her image. Her grey hair is pulled back in a loose knot in the back of her neck, some grey locks flow freely around her face. She has a weathered look and a friendly smile. Her fashion choice also reflects her disguise, something she usually wouldn’t want to be seen in. Too many flowers and too frumpy, but it’s perfect for the occasion. She grabs her witch staff and gives it a little shake, it morphs into a walking cane. She’s ready when she hears the knock on the door.
Hayes gives a firm knock, and soon they hear the shuffling of feet.
‘Who�
��s there?’ Sounds a brittle voice.
‘Police, ma’am. Can you please open the door? We have some questions.’
Lucy peeks through the curtains of the window next to the door. The detectives flash their badges. Satisfied, she opens the door. The detectives hear her open multiple locks. Then she slowly opens the door.
Hayes and Connor hide their surprise when this fragile looking old lady opens the door. Lucy gives them her sweetest smile. ‘Can I help you, officers?’
‘I’m Detective Hayes, and this is Detective Connor.’
‘Oh sorry, detectives I mean.’ She put some extra weight on her cane.
Hayes noticed, ‘Sorry Mrs. Lockwood, we have some questions. Do you mind if we come in? Then you can sit down.’
‘That is so considerate of you, dear. I mean Detective Hayes.’ Lucy slowly turns around ‘Please do come in.’ Lucy shuffles down the hallway. Hayes and Connor slowly follow while they take in the house. It’s dimly lit, and it smells slightly musky. The walls are filled with family pictures; old and newer ones, some hunting paintings, and a painting of what looks like a younger Lucy. ‘Shall we sit in the parlor?’ asks Lucy.
‘Sounds good Mrs. Lockwood.’ Hayes looks at Connor, it’s hard to believe this old lady is a murderer. Let alone that she could be physically capable of it. Connor shrugs.
Lucy leads them into the sitting room. Like the hallway, it’s everything you would expect from a charming old lady. Frilly and out of date, even a little dusty, as she’s apparently not capable of keeping up with such a house. ‘Please sit.’ She motions to the couch and Hayes and Connor oblige. Hayes notices there is already a steaming pot of tea on the table with cups as if she was expecting them. She shakes it off, that’s not possible. Mrs. Lockwood probably always has extra cups out; in case she gets any visitors.
‘Can I offer you some delicious herb tea?’
‘No, thank you.’ Say Hayes and Connor at the same time.
‘Are you sure? It’s lovely herb tea, good for the soul.’ Lucy again throws them her best smile. Just to get the thing going Hayes agrees, and Connor takes the lead in the questions.
The Dagger Page 11