by K. G. McAbee
A sob escaped, shaking me as I leaned forward. The action was meant to draw her in. Play up the sympathies she already had. It worked. Her arms wrapped around me once more as I spilled out the story woven by the Goddess whispering in my ear.
"I'm...I just turned eighteen. My parents were...they...they hurt me. Hit me. I ran as soon as I could, but I don't have anywhere to go. No one to turn to. I can't go back there, Stephanie! I saw the sign for this place, and well, if I could just get a good start. Maybe...maybe I won't be forced to live out on the streets and do horrible things."
Another sob and she was nodding, her hands rubbing my back as she listened. When I finished she pulled back with a smile, her hands moving to wipe the tears away.
"Of course, child. We can help you here. Give you the life you deserve, not the one you started out with. Tell you what. Go ahead and eat. I'll go get your paperwork ready and then we can introduce you to the other girls."
"I was wondering if there were more. It...it's so peaceful here."
Again, the Goddess was with me. Making my voice soft. Vulnerable. The woman pulled me into a hug once more before standing.
"You poor girl. Of course there are more just like you. Some worse. Course, we can't offer much, but we can help."
A wink and she was gone. Leaving me to the food that was turning my stomach at the thought of my lies. It seemed like such a disservice to Ivy's memory, to Evie, to tell such lies. But I had to survive. If there was nothing else, I had to make it through this.
I took two bites of the sandwich, but my stomach protested when the food reached it and I had to stop. I threw the rest of it away and washed the dish before Stephanie joined me once more with a stack of papers in her hand.
We sat down together as she explained them to me. This was a charity, dependent on the grants and donations made by both the government and local companies. I would be expected to pay back only what I could, when I could. Their services would teach me how to get a job, get a new identity, and stay hidden from anyone who would be searching for me.
The pen was in my hand and I was signing Evie's name before I realized it, filling out the blanks with fictitious information that would create my new persona. It wasn't until I handed the pages back to Stephanie I realized I had been successful. The Witchfinders wouldn't find me here. I would learn how to make it back to Tommy's side, and then never leave it again if I could help it.
My new life. My new beginning. All serving to take me back to the one I loved. The one who made me whole.
My Tommy.
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Bonus: a free excerpt from Book Two of The Witchfinder Wars: Deception
Chapter One
Tommy
She was running.
I knew it. And I knew exactly what Anya was trying to escape from. But I couldn't shake the belief I could do something to bring her back. It was the dream of finding her which kept me going during the day, but the horrors filling my sleep told me exactly why she needed to stay gone.
My family, my company, WFG Ltd., would kill her, had already killed her mother and her aunt.
And there was nothing I had been able to do, nothing I could do to stop them.
But I damn well was going to try.
I pulled my car into the parking lot spread out in front of what had been an old brick mill building dating back to the late 1800s. It was now the brand new WFG-sponsored Manning Municipal Clinic. I was here to visit my father. The newspapers and police told us he had died in the rockslide on Interstate 40, but now, I knew better.
I walked up the steps, opened the door at the top, and smelled the unmistakable odor of hospitals; a combination of alcohol, disinfectant, and sadness. The thick wooden floors original to the old mill had been sanded smooth and covered with a clear coat which still let the grain and more than a century of stains show through. I walked past rows of chairs to the ultramodern glass-and-chrome front desk, my sneakers making a soft shushing sound against the ancient wood. Even they were trying to keep quiet.
The receptionist behind the desk was short and thin, her dark hair drawn back so tight I expected it to scream. She was dressed in a subdued grey tunic and pants, standard WFG issue, and her nametag said Carla Nivens. She gave me one of those hospital soothing smiles, like she was glad to see me and sorry I had someone sick, all at the same time.
I leaned on the desk. "I'm Tommy Hopkins," I said.
Her smile changed to one shouting 'rich guy owner of the place in the house' and she leaned over and whispered in the ear of a chubby bleached blonde also in grey. Then the thin one stepped around the desk and gave my arm a consoling pat-pat like I was a friendly dog.
"Yes, sir, Mr. Hopkins," she murmured, kind of low and secretive even though, since there was no one else in the big waiting room but us three, I didn't really see the need. "Come right this way, sir."
We went through double glass doors as I followed her down a long corridor, her own grey sneakers silent while mine continued to shush. The hallway we entered was also a combination of old and new: ancient wood floors and sheetrock walls painted a cheerful pale yellow. Overhead, the ceiling arched so it was almost like walking down a tunnel. Since there were no windows and the lights grew dimmer as we walked, this impression grew stronger and stronger, until I expected to smell dank water and hear chains clinking as ghosts walked the underworld.
Whoa, Tommy. This is a modern clinic, even if the building did start life almost a hundred and fifty years ago.
I knew why my mind was wandering like this. I still didn't exactly believe my Uncle Clay when he said my dad, clinging to life after a horrible accident, needed my girlfriend Anya's witchy-woo powers to bring him back to full strength.
Yes, you heard me right. Welcome to my life. Heir to the Witchfinder General. In love with a witch. It was so much like a bad romance novel I would have laughed—if it didn't hurt so damn bad.
The receptionist made a couple of turns, and we passed doors open and closed. At first, there were a good many people around, some in white, most in grey, but as we made more and more turns, I saw fewer faces and finally none. We did one last left turn into a short dead-end corridor with a mirror taking up the whole end of the hallway.
I towered over the woman in front of me as I examined us both getting bigger in the mirror. I could see my blonde hair sticking up in all directions—pretty much normal and not due to the bunch they'd had to whack off to fit the bandage which I'd just recently discarded. My face looked older somehow; pale and drawn. Especially in comparison to the red cheeks of my guide.
"Just one minute, Mr. Hopkins, sir," she said apologetically.
"Not so much of the sir, please. My name is Tommy."
She blushed. I could see in the mirror the rest of her face now matched her cheeks. "Yes, sir. I mean, yes, Tommy."
She stopped so abruptly I almost ran into her. She reached up with her right hand and laid it against the shiny glass, like she was going to push it over or something—which would have been quite a trick, seeing as how the mirror was at least nine feet high by six wide.
But it turned out to be a trick after all. A soft hum and I saw movement reflected behind us. I turned. A wall was sliding across at the end of the short hall, blocking the entrance. I turned back, and the mirror had slid aside as well.
"Okay," I said. "This is just too cool."
She giggled. "Yes, it is, isn't it…Tommy. You're to go to the central desk, right down there, see?" She pointed down the hall in front of us. "Someone will be there to take care of you. After you pay your visit, someone will bring you back out to my desk. Good afternoon. I look forward to seeing you again."
She turned and walked towards the wall behind us.
I stepped forward, and must have broken some kind of electric beam or something, because the mirror slid to behind me. Only, on this side, it wasn't a mirror at all, but glass so clear it was almost invisible. I watched as the wall opened in front of her and Carla walked back into the main hallway
. Then I realized I'd forgotten to tell her thanks and started forward.
Naturally, I bumped my nose on the glass, hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.
Oh well. It had been one of those days…
***
It started out weird just this morning when I woke up with the sound of Anya's voice whispering my name in my ear. The belief she was there was so strong I shot up, glancing around my room. It took my feet hitting the floor before I realized it had been a figment of my imagination. I just wished she was here so strong my mind was playing tricks on me.
Grand—that's my grandmother, Katherine Hopkins—had been spending time at the clinic with my dad, though she refused to let me go thanks to my headaches, a result of a concussion. She wouldn't even let me go to school so I could tell the authorities I was quitting. She'd been interviewing tutors for me so I wouldn't get behind, but she felt—and I certainly agreed—school wasn't where I was needed right now. I'd felt fine physically for over a week now, but one does not argue with the Grand.
She came in while my sisters and I were at breakfast. We hadn't told Jos and Jax—they're twins, twelve going on thirty—anything about Dad yet. Grand gave me a nod and sat down at the table with us.
"Aren't you girls going to be late for school?" she asked as she poured coffee. "Pass me the sugar, please, Tommy."
I passed the white bowl while the girls whined but hurried to finish their cereal.
"We've got gym today," Jax said. She stuck her tongue out at her sister. "I'm infinitely better at gym than Jos is."
Jos ignored her as she gathered up her books. Then she turned and said in a confidential tone, "Yes, you are. But I'm better at math. Come on, Jax, we've got to go. The bus'll be here in four-point-seven minutes!"
"Bus?" I asked Grand after the girls left, Jax whooping and Jos looking pained.
Grand shrugged. "They didn't like going in the limo, so I gave them permission to ride the bus. They seem to enjoy—"
"Being normal?" I interrupted.
Grand smiled but said nothing as she buttered the toast our chef Brent had just brought in and put down in front of her. She waited for him to leave and then asked, "Tommy, are the headaches gone? No more nightmares? Is your head truly better?"
"As good as it's ever been, I guess." I was still having both the headaches and the nightmares, but I didn't want to give Grand something else to worry about. "How's…I mean, did you see him? He's still okay? Still…alive?"
She didn't say anything for a minute, just eyed the selection of jams and jellies before choosing peach preserves. As she spread a spoonful on her toast, she said, "I go almost every day, you know. And I see…someone. I'm not sure if it's Spenser, to be honest. I do not think your uncle would lie to us, of course."
Sure, she didn't think Clay was lying. Grand was smart, and she knew her son better than anyone; after all, he was her son.
But ever since I'd found out our chauffeur Ray was working for my dear uncle, Grand and I had both decided to be careful what we said.
"Of course not," I agreed. I winked at her and reached for a piece of her toast.
She slapped my hand.
"Ow!"
Sally, who's been our maid ever since before my mom died, came in with the mail on a little tray. "Still some late sympathy cards, Mrs. Hopkins, and a few letters. Good morning, Tommy."
I grinned at her as Grand began to separate her mail.
"Morning, Sally. The girls giving you much trouble?"
"No more than usual," she said as she pulled the door to behind her.
"Well, I guess since the doctor has turned me loose, I should think about school too," I said. I got up and stretched, wondering what it would be like to visit the school I'd attended for such a short time, the school where I'd met Anya, especially now after all these weeks away, and all I'd been through. Would they still be talking about the fire at the old Blanchett place, and the deaths of Ivy, Evie and, for all they knew, Anya? I didn't know if I could stand hearing about any of those things, not and keep my sanity.
It was one reason I hadn't been in any hurry to go back and get my things. I still planned to attend college, but the private tutoring would make sure I didn't get behind. I was hoping getting back into a regular routine would help me manage my longing for Anya.
Fat chance.
"Tommy."
Grand sounded upset.
I sat back down. "Yes, ma'am?"
"I've got something for you." She handed me three small pieces of grubby paper, each of them folded up into a square. My name was on the front of all of them.
I knew the handwriting. My heart began to pound as I unfolded them and glanced at the dates at the top, then put them in order. The first one was dated three weeks ago. I began to read:
September 10
Tommy—
I hope this letter finds its way to you. You put so much faith in your Grand, I had to do so as well. These last few weeks have been hell for me. I'm sure for you too.
Please, please don't worry. I'm fine. Safe. Finding a way back to you.
Please be safe while I'm gone. I couldn't make it through this if I didn't know I could come back to you. Because then, all purpose would be gone.
Promise me you'll burn this. I know about WFG, Tommy. I don't—no, I can't—care about your connection to them. My heart won't let me. Just do this—burn this—so they can't find it, and you won't be in more trouble too.
With all my love,
Anya
I tucked the paper, a paper I had no intention of burning, into my pocket and began to read the second one:
September 17
Tommy—
They are keeping me busy here. It kills me I can't tell you where I am—who I'm with. I know it's for their protection as well as mine. They hide broken women in plain sight. Like they are doing for me now.
I know you can't respond. I don't even know if you've gotten the first letter. But I have to feel connected to you. One night wasn't enough, wasn't nearly enough.
My heart is too selfish.
Please know you are in my thoughts always. May the Goddess be with you until I can be.
With all my love,
Anya
This one followed the first, but into a different pocket. I began the third and last, dated only a few days ago:
September 25
Tommy—
Javier says I'm almost ready. Apparently, forgers take longer than necessary when it comes to giving someone a new name. A new life.
I can't shake the feeling something is wrong. Something is out of place. Please, please be all right. I'm coming back as soon as I can.
They've changed my name to Grace White. Apparently it's the real meaning of my old name; should be easy for me to remember. But how easy can it be to forget such a thing in the first place?
At any rate, now you know the mask I'll be wearing when you see me next—
I pray it will be very, very soon—
No signature on this one, but it didn't matter; I knew who'd written it.
"Grand, this is—"
Grand raised her hand, the one holding a piece of toast with a single bite taken out of it. "It's nice your friends from school are worried about you, isn't it, Tommy? You must have made quite an impression on them, even in the short time you were able to attend. It's a shame you won't be taking classes there any longer. Be sure to tell them all how much I appreciate how we've been welcomed into Manning, won't you, dear? And if you have any problems, tell the principal to call me."
I shut my mouth so hard my teeth clanked together. I got it. "Yes, ma'am. I will. And Grand?"
"Yes, dear?" She took a bite of toast.
"I think I'll visit the clinic today and wait to go back and finish up at school tomorrow."
"Hmm, quite a good idea, I think. You need to see how well they're taking care of Spenser so you can clear your mind for your studies. Working one-on-one with tutors can be pretty intense, and a lot different than attend
ing classes with others. I understand completely. If you're finished stealing my breakfast, why don't you run on now?"
I gave her an awkward hug, leaning down while she sat at the table. She felt warm and comforting, as always, but way thinner than I liked.
I added her to my pile of worries and headed out the door and upstairs to get a jacket...and to put my letters somewhere safe. I'd learned my lesson; Clay wasn't going to find these letters like he'd found another one Anya had written.
I glanced out my bedroom window. Our house was up in the hills, but I could see the Manning Clinic down in the river valley. It looked like a toy made of blocks some kid had lost beside a silver stream…..
Coming soon: Book two in The Witchfinder Wars: Deception by K.G. McAbee and Cynthia D. Witherspoon
About the authors of The Witchfinder Wars
K.G. McAbee has had several books and nearly a hundred short stories published, some of them quite readable. She takes her geekdom seriously, never misses a sci-fi con, loves dogs and iced tea, and believes the words 'Stan Lee' are interchangeable with 'The Almighty.' She writes steampunk, fantasy, science fiction, horror, pulp, westerns and, most recently, comics. She's a member of Horror Writers Association and International Thriller Writers and is an Artist in Residence with the South Carolina Arts Commission. She recently received an honorable mention in the 2013 3rd quarter Writers of the Future. For more information, visit her blog or email her at [email protected]
Cynthia D. Witherspoon is an award winning writer of Southern Gothic, Paranormal Romance, and Urban Fantasy. She has been published in numerous anthologies since 2009. Her work has appeared in several award winning collections including Dark Tales of Ancient Civilizations (2012) and Pellucid Lunacy (2010).
Be sure to read Cynthia D. Witherspoon's latest release at Smashwords: