The Witchfinder Wars

by K. G. McAbee

  "Tommy...wait."

  He turned with the small smile back on his face. I hated to see him leave, but I knew his visit would have to come to a close before the night came. The bouquet of lavender was still lying where I had dropped it earlier, and I grabbed it and slipped the green ribbon out of my hair. My hair fell down my back and around my face, but I shook it out of the way as I tied the ribbon into a bow.

  I was back to him in less than two seconds.

  "Here. Take these to your Grand. From you. She seems like she's been through a lot. It'll make her smile."

  I saw no reason to tell him lavender was also for a blessing. Great to chase away negativity.

  Tommy took it and tilted his head as he turned it in his hands. "But...I mean, thanks and all that, but honestly we've got so many flowers in the house, the smells would just choke you."

  "Trust me, Tommy. These aren't the hothouse ones everybody on the face of the planet has been sending you guys. Besides, tell her they are just for her. It'll make her feel better. It's lavender...an herb for calming."

  We smiled at each other and he turned to go, waving the bouquet at me before he climbed back into the car; the brilliant color of it seemed to have dulled in the fading afternoon.

  When he was with me, the happiness I felt had multiplied. Yet the guilt that had threatened by the pond began to set in as he pulled out of the drive. The light afternoon we had shared didn't belong to me, and I knew it. With his kiss still on my lips, I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me.

  It was because of the spell. All of it. I had done magic. A working. And now I was going to have to make a choice and suffer the consequences.

  The sudden sadness was overpowering as I gathered up the remaining flowers and threw them aside for later. The pinks and pale yellows of the sky had turned to a rich purple as I moved inside; I ignored as best I could the curiosity in the expressions of Evie and Ivy. Their questions about Tommy would have to wait.

  I walked with the heavy steps of a dead man up to my room before shutting the door to close off me from the world.

  A love not freely chosen is not really a love at all.

  I sank across the bed and buried my head in the crook of my arm.

  It's enslavement.

  I knew what I had to do. Yet I loathed the very thought of it. I fought with the defiance of a stubborn child, but I was better than that. When I sat up, I had made my decision.

  I have to let him go.

  Chapter Eight

  Tommy

  I liked the smell of the little grey-green bunch of lavender tied with the ribbon from Anya's hair, the one that matched her eyes. The smell wasn't sweet and overpowering like all the flowers sent for the funeral and filling every space in our house; a smell I just wanted to escape from. The lavender smell filled up the car, sure, but it was earthier and, at the same time, rich and soothing.

  Of course, maybe I just like it because Anya gave it to me.

  Maybe I did. In fact, that little bunch made me feel a lot like she made me feel: warm and happy and with a future to look forward to instead of one filled with dread. I grinned at myself in the rearview mirror as I drove toward home.

  Anya's house was out in the country, past the edge of town, and I enjoyed the drive back. I cut off the air, rolled the window down and sang, at the top of my voice, a song I'd heard in Italy. I didn't know all the words, but it was something about a pretty girl and a boy. As far as I could tell, all Italian songs were about a pretty girl and a boy. I hummed the words I couldn't remember.

  I got home too soon to suit me.

  And Clay's big black Hummer, which had showed up the day before from somewhere, was in the drive.

  My good mood plummeted from sky high to below ground level and I went from singing to groaning within the space of ten yards.

  We'd missed our 'little chat' on Monday at supper. Clay had received an emergency call after lunch, something to do with WFG he just had to take care of, he said. He and Kinsey had disappeared, though Clay had promised they'd be back soon.

  They were gone for over two days, just making it back on Thursday morning for Dad's funeral—closed casket, of course, then cremation. None of us wanted to see what was left of our father once the rescue squad dug his Ferrari from under the rock fall; just seeing the car was enough.

  Right after the service, Clay and Kin had disappeared again without a word of explanation. I pretty much hoped we'd seen the last of them. They were one reason why I went to school on Friday, aside from hoping to see Anya to thank her for the letter. I was glad she'd played hooky. I had really enjoyed the visit to her house.

  But now it was back to trouble.

  Well, at least I'd gotten a nap. I felt better able to face things since I'd had some rest.

  I drove around to the back of the house to the long garage that had once been stables. I parked the little green sports car Dad had given me for my seventeenth birthday beside another pair of Hummers I didn't remember seeing before. Ray was cleaning the windshield on one of them, and a couple of guys stood talking to him.

  "Hey, Ray," I called as I got out of my car.

  Ray turned to look at me. "Afternoon, uh, Mr. Hopkins," he said, cutting a sidelong glance at the other two. "Your uncle is looking for you."

  There was a funny look on his face, kind of embarrassed or nervous or something. But I didn't have time to investigate.

  "I'm busy right now. I'll talk to him later."

  After all, I had flowers to deliver to Grand. I held the little bunch up to my nose as I walked toward the house. Just outside the back door was a long screened porch with shelves and cabinets and stuff; Brent had been moving a lot of the flowers out there. I pulled the green ribbon off and stuck it in my pocket, then looked around for something to put the lavender in. I saw the perfect thing high up on a narrow shelf near the ceiling, half hidden behind a blue jug: a pint-sized glass jar with 'Mason' in big raised letters on the side. I grabbed it and went into the kitchen.

  "Hi, Brent," I said to our chef's back.

  He was a tubby man who obviously enjoyed his own cooking. He dressed in white so often I'd almost not recognized him at Dad's funeral, in a navy suit with a yellow shirt. He ignored me with his usual intensity as he chopped mushrooms on a big butcher block in that speed-of-light way he has.

  I went over to the long divided sink under the window and rinsed out the jar, then filled it half full and stuck the lavender in it.

  Brent turned to me. He pointed one finger in an accusing kind of way. "That's French lavender," he said. "Where did you find French lavender?"

  "Uh, a friend gave it to me; it's for Grand."

  "I can find a vase for it. The good Lord knows, we have plenty of vases in this house."

  Brent waved his hands in the air and, since one held a foot-long cleaver, he looked pretty dangerous.

  "No, this jar is fine. It'll be a nice change for Grand. See ya."

  I headed out the door before he could say anything else.

  The kitchen was in a long one-story addition on the back of the big Victorian, so I passed through several rooms before I got to the actual house. I was heading for the main stairs but, halfway there, I decided to take the back ones instead.

  Not just because it was quicker, but so I wouldn't have to chance running into Clay.

  I went up to the second floor and headed for Grand's room. I knew she'd be there; she was always there between the time we all got home from school and the evening meal. Her door was open and I could hear Jos and Jax arguing. I was glad things were getting back to normal.

  I went in, and the girls turned to face me. Jos had been crying, but Jax was a funny dark red color that meant she was seriously pissed.

  "Tommy, it's about time," she said, and she had her hands on her hips, which was another danger signal. "Do you know what that creep Clay says?" Without even waiting for me to shake my head, she continued. "He says Jos and I have to go to a stinky old boarding school instead of s
taying here with you and Grand."

  "Now, honey, you know that's not true," Grand said in her calming-the-waters voice. "He just suggested you and your sister might enjoy a different school, that's all."

  Grand looked pretty upset herself, though, so I wasn't sure I believed her.

  Jos gave a great big sniff.

  I sighed and set the jar of lavender on the table, then reconsidered—after all, it was supposed to be soothing, right?—and picked it back up and carried it to Grand.

  "How nice, Tommy," she said and stuck her nose right in it. "How did you know I loved lavender? And I love the old Mason jar! What a relief after all these hothouse flowers!" She held it out to Jos, who took a tentative sniff and then a bigger one.

  Jax, who was in no mood to be soothed, ignored it when Grand held it in her direction.

  "Well, Tommy?" my sister snapped. "What are you going to do about this, this, this Clay person?"

  I leaned over and put one hand on each of her shoulders. "I'll tell you one thing, Jaxie. Nobody is taking you or Jos away from me and Grand, and that includes this Clay person or anyone else in the whole wide world. Got it?"

  "Well," she said doubtfully, "okay then. Can I smell that green stuff too?"

  Grand held out the little jar and Jax took a sniff. "Not bad," she said. "Kind of spicy and clean. Come on, Jos, wipe your nose and let's go do our homework."

  Both twins hugged Grand and ran out the door.

  "Wow. It does calm people down. Anya was right," I said in amazement.

  "Anya?" Grand asked, her head cocked to one side and a little smile lifting the right corner of her mouth. "Someone I need to know about?"

  I plunged both hands in my pockets. I could feel the cool length of ribbon between the fingers of my right hand. "Yes, ma'am, I guess you do." I grinned at her. "That's where I got the lavender, from Anya. She said you'd like it and she was right. She also said it had a calming effect; guess that's true too, huh?"

  "Sit down, sweetheart, and tell me all about her."

  I plopped down on the rug in front of Grand's chair and it all came tumbling out: meeting Anya at school, where she was in all my classes; helping her out when Jordan and his bully boys were threatening her; the letter she'd sent me made me feel better; my visit to her house when she wasn't at school today; and how relaxed and comfortable she'd made me feel, so I was able to finally get a nap without having it interrupted by horrible dreams.

  "She sounds just lovely. And you do look more rested than you have lately," Grand said as she smoothed the hair back from my forehead. "I've been worried about you, honey. I just want you to be careful and, well, not rush into anything. All this has been hard on every one of us—including Clay and Kinsey, of course," she added with what sounded like reluctance.

  "Oh, sure," I said. "Clay and Kinsey are just crushed. What you mean to say is, Clay is thrilled he's got more control of WFG now Dad is gone."

  "Now, that's not true," Grand said, then saw the look on my face. "Well, maybe it is, at least in some ways. Let me tell you a little about Clay. He's the second son, of course, and its always made him more than a little angry. He's always thought, you see, he'd be better at directing the company than your father, but WFG is a family business and traditionally, the oldest son of the oldest son takes over. Jamieson, your grandfather, always preferred Clay to Spenser, just as, I'm afraid, I always did the opposite. Clay can be a little, well, hard to deal with at times. But he loves the business and recognizes the important things it does, I'm sure. So please don't let him get under your skin, or at least try not to, okay? Now. Tell me more about this Anya of yours. Is she pretty?"

  I thought about her question for a minute. "She's...well, she's something better than pretty, Grand, something I don't really have a word for. Oh, she looks fine and all that, but she's, I don't know...natural and real and warm. She's got red hair and green eyes and she's a little thing, not much taller than you are."

  "She sounds lovely, Tommy. I know some people in this town; I grew up near here, remember? What's her last name?"

  Grand was smiling for what seemed like the first time in weeks.

  "Let's see...oh, I remember. Blanchett. Sounds French, doesn't it?"

  I was looking at the little jar of lavender and didn't notice for a minute Grand had gone silent. I looked at her.

  The smile was gone from her face and it had gone a pale, dead white.

  My first thought was heart attack or stroke or one of those things that hit old people. I jumped up and leaned over her.

  "Grand? Are you okay?"

  She held up a hand; it was trembling. I grabbed it; ice cold. Now I was really getting scared. "Grand, I'm going to call a doctor."

  "No, Tommy; I don't need a doctor. I'm fine. Just...just a little surprised, honey. I didn't know the Blanchetts still lived around here, that's all."

  "What's wrong with them, Grand? What do you know about them?"

  Before she could answer, there was a knock at her door.

  "Mrs. Hopkins?"

  Sally's voice.

  "Yes, Sally?"

  "Mr. Clay Hopkins wants to see Tommy, ma'am. It sounds urgent."

  Chapter Nine

  Anya

  The moon was waning tonight, which was perfect for what I had to do. The voice that had been my constant companion since the robe ritual was a low whine now. My heart was telling me not to cut the cord connecting us; my mind was telling me to free him as fast as I could.

  I would have to wait for the house to go silent. If Ivy and Evie were worried enough, they'd peek in on me. It wouldn't do any good if they interrupted the magic before it was done. And their elation I was performing magic without them would be way too much for me right now.

  When Ivy and Evie left the living room, I could hear their voices as they walked up the stairs. I clutched the side of my bed, ready to spring in the direction of my altar the moment silence fell upon the house.

  Evie's tone snapped me out of my impatience.

  "There is something going on with Annie, Ivy. I just can't seem to put my finger on it. And the stars tell me nothing."

  "You're just worried to worry. She's fine. If anything, it's probably that boy I keep seeing in her cards."

  "Have you told her about what we saw? The stars did confirm..."

  My mother actually hissed. Like a cat. "No! We can't and you won't either. I won't have her scared away over nothing. We need her strength, Evelyn. We'll never be anything if we don't have it."

  "Ivy, what we saw wasn't 'nothing'. If she is to be a full member of this Coven, we can't keep these things from her." Evie sounded worried.

  "Well, she's not a member yet. And I'm the eldest, so my answer is final. I won't have her told when there's a chance something could change."

  "It doesn't work that way, and you know it. The future is written, Sister. It cannot be changed. And besides, you're only ten minutes older than I am."

  "Don't do this to us, Evie." My mother's voice took on a pleading tone. "We've already lost one; I can't bear to lose the other."

  I didn't hear any more of their conversation. To be honest, I didn't want to hear anymore. Yet, curiosity slipped around my defenses. Told what exactly? Who was this other? What power could I have to offer them? The power to lose control over myself at the first signs of a breakdown? To lose what little grip I had left on my sanity after I had managed to regain it? And now, I had to let go of someone I didn't know for sure was mine in the first place?

  My heart was already shattered. I didn't want any more surprises.

  The sounds of the house settling fell around me when the blue numbers of the clock turned to midnight. My knees cracked against the hardwood floor moments later as I fell down in front of my altar.

  You gotta do this, Annie. Release him. Let him be happy.

  The voice was my own this time as I lit the semi-circle of candles facing me. A soft glow filled the room as each small fire flickered its welcome.

  "Great Mother.
.."

  I had made my decision to do this completely unprepared. No herbs, no incense; only myself and the candles. The energy was building in waves around the altar and I knew I was ready. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.

  Arms raised above my head, I pleaded with the Goddess to join me. To be with me as I did the working. I dropped my arms and began to untie the string. I watched the cord fall to curl around my feet. I felt it when the emptiness inside me took hold.

  The voice in my head was silent.

  I searched in vain for the cord as if to call it back as I struggled to contain the tears starting to fall.

  "I wasn't expecting this to be so hard. I don't know him. And he doesn't know me."

  But it was hard. It had to be because of the binding, but I didn't think the magic had been so strong.

  "Forgive me for..." The words broke against the sudden lump in my throat. I was choking against them. Forcing them out against my will seemed to take everything I had. ". . . for not understanding how powerful we truly are. I release the binding I put upon Tommy Hopkins. It was nothing more than a lonely girl trying to find someone—anyone—who would accept her."

  I had to calm down. My hands were shaking as badly as my voice. The truth was harsh, but I couldn't lie to myself here. At this time, in this place, the truth was all I could cling to as everything else was thrown away. So I had to accept it, whether I wanted to or not.

  "I'm too much like Ivy. I used magic for my own gain no matter how it would affect him. How it would affect me. The attachment I feel now, this pain—it is a product of that. Thrice to give, thrice to take. He will be a stranger to me now. As it should be. As it was meant to be."

  My tears came in earnest now. The shame I felt for doing magic with only myself to gain was something I had shunned for years, ever since I had begun to learn magic. It was a gift too easily squandered, and my experiences with Ivy and Evie had confirmed that. Yet I'd done the very thing the day of the robe ritual I had promised myself I would never do. I wanted the stranger who cared enough to help me. It didn't matter if he was meant for me or not.