Beewitched

by Hannah Reed

  “No males allowed,” one of the witches said, overhearing us.

  “It’s the girls’ thing,” Greg told me. “The inner sanctum and all that. I’d vote to let you stay if, uh, I had a vote.”

  So I asked the next witch who came along, careful to avoid Lucinda (who was nowhere in sight, thank my lucky stars), hoping for a more positive response.

  My request to participate created a lively discussion among the witches. It was a numbers thing. Thirteen and all that. What was the big deal? Twelve, fourteen, I couldn’t see the difference. Like, who was counting and who cared?

  Aurora’s voice came from the background with a rather weakly stated vote in my favor. Since she owed me big-time for getting her this gig, I’d expected more of a positive response from her quarter, but I guess since she was only a fill-in, she didn’t much count, either.

  Some of the women had big issues with my presence. Some didn’t.

  A few were on the fence. Like Rosina, who had sort of bonded with me at the store when I’d admired her necklace. Right now the crystal in the center of it was sparkling from the reflection of the fire’s flames.

  A huge cloud of earthy, exotic patchouli oil hung over us.

  “She’s uninitiated,” one dark purple–caped witch said.

  “A mundane!” one with pointy glasses added.

  That certainly didn’t sound like a compliment.

  “A muggle,” somebody else said with a snorty little laugh.

  The sassy part of me wanted to say, “Just because I sweep with my broom instead of ride it isn’t a reason to discriminate against me,” but that wouldn’t have helped my case. Besides, I hadn’t seen a single broom yet to reference.

  Eventually Dy came outside with Lucinda, who settled it once and for all. “Absolutely not!” said the ringleader. Hers was apparently the deciding vote, as head honcho, dictator, the high priestess, or whatever they called her, because everybody fell into line, clammed up, and went about their business like I no longer existed.

  “You’ll have to leave,” Lucinda said to me, giving me a big frightening sneer in the yellow light from the flames. But when I blinked, the scary image had vanished, and she was turning away. “This male has to go, too. Dy, what is he still doing here? Out! Now!”

  I slunk back to my yard, instantly missing the warmth of their fire, while Rosina walked Greg to the street and stood watching as he drove away. She lingered there as if in deep thought before returning to the backyard.

  At least I’d had an opportunity to see everything up close. They’d constructed an altar with witchlike tools on it—an ornate pewter goblet that reminded me of a scene in an Indiana Jones movie, a black kettle (à la the Wicked Witch of the West in The Wizard of Oz) and bowls of what was probably water, and a large saltshaker. Then there were bunches of candles, cinnamon incense, and Dy’s wand. The dagger had been placed right in the middle of everything like it was the most important piece of the ritual.

  I shivered just thinking about that knife. And redialed Hunter.

  He still wasn’t answering his cell phone.

  I sat in the deep dark of my backyard, watching from afar as the women formed a circle and began to fill the space with their moving bodies. Voices rang out. I heard several references to the moon and to goddesses (which I liked a lot), and found myself really wishing I was in their midst. Lots of chanting and dancing ensued. I was shocked when I glanced at my watch and saw it was already midnight. Midnight? It seemed like the evening had just begun. Had I lost track of that much time? Or fallen asleep?

  I checked my cell phone and realized I’d unintentionally silenced it. How could that have happened? Of course, it figured, Hunter had left a recent message—he’d been successful with his mission and still had a little paperwork to do but thought he’d check on me. I did my usual “Thank God he’s okay” thought, shot him a quick text to let him know I was okay, and swung my attention back in the direction of the ceremony.

  Hunter was too far away to come to anybody’s rescue if things got “dicey” soon anyway. It was up to me to make sure Aurora stayed safe.

  Magic was in the air, electric energy zipping back and forth in the nighttime. I felt it like a physical presence. The women seemed lost in the freedom of the ritual as flames from the fire flicked skyward.

  I stood up, pulled my fleece tighter around my body, and edged closer, careful to stay in the shadows, trying to pick out which one was Aurora. I scanned for her familiar face, but with full capes flapping, the circle seemed filled with way more than thirteen witches. More like thirty.

  Suddenly, everybody stopped moving as Lucinda approached the altar and picked up the knife. Gazing into the sky, she began waving the blade in what looked like a figure eight.

  Then the witches formed a more perfect circle than their earlier undulating one and passed around the goblet. Then each of them ate a little crescent cake. I couldn’t help noticing that the double-edged dagger wasn’t on the altar where it had been a moment before. And it wasn’t visible in Lucinda’s hand, either. With all the loose clothing, it could be anywhere.

  Was this really going on right next door?

  Dyanna Crane wasn’t exactly who I had had in mind regarding a new neighbor. I’d expected to live next door to a young family buying their first starter house, or a downsizing elderly couple who enjoyed gardening and a lot of peace and quiet. Once again, Lori Spandle (the worst real estate agent on the planet) had messed up my cozy little street. Once I got my hands on the woman, I would gladly offer her up as the next sacrifice for one of the coven’s rituals.

  The circle of witches went back to slithering around the fire.

  Since I hadn’t stumbled across the definition of skyclad during my research, I just wasn’t prepared for what happened next, when the entire group, after some hocus-pocus stuff I didn’t catch, dropped their capes to the ground and stepped out of them. Not a single one was wearing a stitch. It was all I could do not to gasp out loud in surprise. I really hadn’t seen that coming.

  Suddenly in unison as though they’d rehearsed ahead of time, they left the warmth of the fire and, completely bare naked, danced their way down toward the river.

  I stood up, stunned.

  Was that a cackle I heard?

  No, really, my imagination was working overtime.

  What should I do?

  The knife that had vanished concerned me big-time. Where had it gone? Something as large as that thing would have been hard to hide on a butt-naked person. Under a cape, sure, but those were on the ground.

  If I followed them to the water and they saw me, would I look like a Peeping Tom? Or rather a Peeping Tomette? Did I care about that? Not at all. But what if they fell on me like a murder of crazed crows and poked my eyes out? (Maybe I’d read too many tales in the horror genre in my early formative years.)

  Still . . . thirteen was a lot of women. I’d be at their mercy, if they caught me. So they just wouldn’t catch me.

  To make matters worse, I thought I saw a momentary reflection of metal as the group danced away.

  At this point I decided I didn’t care if they caught me red-handed and accused me publicly of voyeurism. And if things went from bad to worse, and they went hostile on me, I would just run like crazy.

  My quickly hatched plan was to pick Aurora out of this nutty coven, make sure she was okay, and whisk her out of there no matter how much she fought me (which actually might be considerable based on her earlier enthusiasm).

  I crept quickly through Dy’s backyard, staying low in the shadows, a feat in itself considering the bright moon that appeared through the clouds to illuminate the sky. Witches were splashing into the water from the bank, wading deeper into the river.

  Apparently, throwing water on them would be useless. None of them were melting like the Wicked Witch had. Good to know.

  From behind
a maple tree, I tried to count witches again, had to start over several times, coming up short by one or two each time. If only they’d stop moving around so much and give me a chance to count properly! And to top things off, was this really a good time for the moon to disappear behind another cloud?

  With the moonlight gone, I could barely see a thing. Good thing I’d grown up in this neighborhood, had played hide-and-seek in the dark, and still could have been able to get around blindfolded. I crept closer.

  By now I was absolutely convinced that these women were up to no good. Their chanting was still going on, only the words had changed. It was now Goddess from which we came, Power to the Blade. Over and over.

  I didn’t stop to think about consequences or what-ifs. My only thought was for Aurora and what might possibly happen to her if I didn’t intervene.

  I didn’t let myself even think about how cold that water must be.

  The plan was to strip down to my underwear before diving in, but as I threw off my fleece and top, kicked out of my flip-flops, and unbuttoned my jeans, I realized my white underthings were standing out in the dark like Vegas neon signs.

  So I had to strip those off, too, before I raced for the water. I skidded to a stop at the bank, forced myself forward, tiptoed in, gritted my teeth at the extreme temperature change, and waded as unobtrusively as possible toward the mass of bodies. Nobody even noticed as I joined them up to my armpits in murky, cold river water, hearing bullfrogs croaking all around me. Up close, visibility was much better, but if I wanted to stay anonymous (which I seriously did) I still had to hang back a little. Treading water with my face held low wasn’t much of a problem, since it was pretty deep where the witches were now swaying and chanting. I finally spotted Aurora and slithered toward her. I gently took her arm and pulled her aside, placing a finger to my lips, the sign for silence.

  “What? Oh, hi,” she whispered in spite of my warning. “You came anyway.” Aurora glanced toward the coven, but they were making enough noise to cover our little conversation. “Lucinda won’t like it.”

  “We’re getting out of here,” I whispered back. “And we have to hurry.”

  Aurora was moving, but not toward shore. “I’m staying,” she insisted, resisting.

  So I said something that maybe sounded a little overly dramatic to anyone who hadn’t spent the last several hours inside my head. I said, “They’re preparing for a sacrifice and I’m pretty sure you’re the chosen lamb.”

  Melodramatic, yes. Blurty, absolutely. But it sure did work.

  I’ve never seen my neighbor move so fast.

  And I was right behind her, noting that all the singing and chanting had come to an abrupt halt. All I could hear was my own rapid breathing and the sound of splashing water as Aurora and I tried to make our escape.

  “Stop them!” Lucinda shouted. Mere seconds later, she appeared in my peripheral vision, on my left, splashing in the same direction, moving in to flank us. The rest of the witches were on our heels.

  Running in water, I realized too late, was a great equalizer. I’d lost my edge.

  “Hurry,” I screamed at Aurora. “Faster!”

  Five

  We scrambled up the bank and took off running toward the house. It’s amazing how much information your brain can process in a few seconds flat. Mine went wild trying to determine the right path.

  A little more advanced plotting and planning on my part would have been beneficial. We were still in what my grandmother would call a pickle. For obvious reasons. Both of us were naked. We couldn’t very well race down Main Street, shouting for help and calling all kinds of attention to ourselves. I’d have to leave town. My mother would see to that. And I’d be tarred and feathered on the way out, too.

  Or . . . we could head for my house, or even Aurora’s house, where we would beat them off with a broom and hold them at bay while we called for emergency backup.

  If only our socially brainwashed brains hadn’t demanded that we cover up. Automatically, both Aurora and I had first headed for our piles of clothing, and had almost made it, when we were surrounded by naked women. Two of us, twelve of them. How was I supposed to deal with the entire coven? Having Holly “Hulk Hogan” here at our side would have evened the odds considerably.

  “You again,” Lucinda snarled at me, one finger raised (I swear it was crooked), practically sticking it in my face. “What part of ‘get lost’ didn’t you understand?” She turned to Aurora, who had scooped her clothes into a ball in her arms. “I thought you had potential,” she said to Aurora, “until this happened.”

  I bent to pick up my clothes and get dressed, but Lucinda stepped down, grinding her heel into the back of my hand. I tugged it away and rose.

  “We need to decide what to do about them.” Surprisingly, this came from my new neighbor, not Lucinda. In the dark with the fire crackling and dying down to embers, Dy didn’t have the same fresh, friendly expression that she’d had earlier today when we’d first met.

  “I’ll make that decision,” Lucinda said. “Not you.”

  “We all will,” Rosina said, as naked as the rest except for the pentacle around her neck.

  Hunter, where are you? And where is that enormous knife?

  Lucinda, Dy, and Rosina were in the grip of a witchy power play—glaring at one another. If their looks could kill, all three of them would be dead. Finally they broke the stalemate.

  “Both of you,” Lucinda said to Aurora and me with her judgelike authority restored intact, “get out of here and don’t ever come back.”

  Get out! That was it?

  Whew! What an enormous relief! Getting banned from the premises wasn’t so bad. Maybe I’d misjudged this group after all. Maybe they weren’t the demons I’d assumed they were.

  Just then, without a single bit of warning, a beam of light brighter than the sun at high noon engulfed us. It was so brilliant I was momentarily blinded.

  A voice called out from behind the light. “Freeze!” it said.

  With the order to freeze, I realized I was freezing in more ways than one. God, it was cold.

  Even worse (actually much, much worse), I recognized that voice.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t my main man come to rescue me.

  It was our police chief, Johnny Jay.

  The entire bunch of us instinctively took several steps away from the light source. Being in the middle of them, I followed right along, staying low, realizing my fleece and other belongings were now out of reach.

  So there I was in the witchy mix, feeling completely exposed in the industrial spotlight. How humiliating, to be nude in front of the absolute last person on earth I’d willingly bare myself before! How in the world had Johnny Jay known what was going on, and how did he manage to set up this sting operation without any of us spotting him?

  Weren’t witches supposed to know these things in advance? Then again, I’d managed to surprise them earlier, so I guess knowing the future wasn’t this group’s forte.

  I peered around the people in front of me and noticed something that gave me hope:

  Johnny Jay hadn’t seen me yet. Maybe I could sneak out of this jam after all.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Johnny roared, coming out from behind the light and really taking in the situation. “I almost dismissed the complaint out of hand since Patti Dwyre is a certifiable wacko, but this time she was actually firing on all cylinders.”

  Patti! I should have known. That woman manages to cause trouble for me nonstop. If I wasn’t so cold, I’d be fuming.

  I actually caught a hint of confusion in his statement, like he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with so many women standing around in the buff. Johnny Jay, bully that he is, likes his prey to be isolated, no witnesses to his tactics, so this many of us really put him off his game.

  A tiny part of me knew that if he’d shown up when I though
t the witches were going to stab us to death, my reaction would have been more on the eternally grateful side rather than the extremely embarrassed side. But instead, the chief’s appearance was untimely and unfortunate and a lot of other “un” words.

  Johnny had backup with him. Several other officers came out from behind him and gawked. Geez, why couldn’t it have been Sally Maylor? Come to think of it, why couldn’t Sally have been in Johnny’s shoes? That would have been so much better.

  “We are going to get dressed now,” Lucinda said to Johnny, with the right amount of demand in her voice.

  “Cover up,” the chief agreed, scowling at the other officers. “No funny stuff, though. Move nice and slow, then I want you to form an orderly line. I’m taking names.”

  I stayed low and crept quickly toward the very back of the group. I glanced longingly at my own clothes, knowing there was no way I could get to them without Johnny Jay getting a real eyeful. By the time the cluster of women broke apart, I was tucked safely in dense evergreens between Dy’s house and mine. I felt safe enough to hang around for the big finale now that I no longer had an active role in it.

  “As soon as you women are presentable,” Johnny Jay went on to say, “we’ll have a nice chat. Then you can give me your reasons for why I shouldn’t book every last one of you.”

  Since the witches had been wearing nothing but loose gowns and flowing capes to begin with, they were all dressed again almost as quickly as they’d shed their clothes earlier. Lucinda stepped forward, and I noticed she had a few inches on the chief. I thought this should be a good showdown—one badass against another.

  “I’m an attorney,” Lucinda said to Johnny Jay, surprising me big-time. For some reason I just assumed she was a full-time witch. She went on, “I represent this group of women. We were invited to the home of Dyanna Crane, who moved in today, for a housewarming celebration. Isn’t that right, Dy?”