Witch Risen: A Paranormal Adventure (Bad Tom Series Book 2)

by Jill Nojack

  It won't be me again. I haven't figured anything out here that I couldn't have figured out in a warm bed at Robert's. Staying longer isn't going to make a difference. It won't save Cassie. It won't bring her back to me.

  I take one last look at the second floor, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, and I'm sure I see the gauze curtain move. I imagine her smiling down at me with only my loving girlfriend there instead of Eunice lurking behind her eyes. But Cassie doesn't brush the curtains aside. And even if she did, I know the truth. It will take more than hope to free her.

  I slip out the back of the alley. Soon, I'm into the woods where some poor woodland creature will pay the price for my pain.

  ***

  "Did you sleep at all, Tom?" Gillian asks as I enter the kitchen dressed in the clothes someone had thoughtfully placed on a chair in my room. They're a snug fit, but the length is good. And way too button-down for my taste. Must be hand-me-downs from my host.

  Back when we were rivals and Robert still had hair, he looked just as good in a pair of bell-bottoms as I did, even though his were the young Republican version. And I have to admit, he always had more sense. He dropped Eunice and ran when I was still sniffing around her every chance I got. I may still have my hair and my youth, but the only other thing of value I've had in the past forty-five years was my short time with Cassie.

  Gillian reaches for a gooey cinnamon roll and my stomach rumbles, responding to the empty feeling that I know food won't completely fill.

  I sit down and grab for one while Robert maneuvers his way around the massive metal kitchen island, then pours me a cup of coffee from a french press. I gesture toward my clothes as he sets it down in front of me. "Thanks for these."

  "Not a problem. Whatever you need while you're here, just ask." The doorbell sounds. "That'll be Natalie. Pour her a cup of coffee, would you, Gillian?" Robert heads for the door.

  I'm kind of surprised he doesn't have a butler in this old mansion. I'm also surprised that he brews his own coffee. But it's early. Maybe the help hasn't arrived yet. Or maybe I don't really know anything about him because I was too busy thinking with my nether parts back in the day.

  I start on my own coffee as Gillian readies another cup. My early-morning face must be grim. She says, "If I could have kept my eyes open last night, I'd have been willing to start figuring this out right then. You're not the only one who loves Cassie, Tom."

  I squeeze my eyes shut tight. I never did tell Cassie that I love her. It's too early; it's too new between us. We're both so screwed up by Eunice. But now, I wish I'd said it despite my fears when we were dozing together that last morning. She turned to smile at me, radiant, her long brown hair spilling across the bed in shining waves. But I couldn't shape my lips around the right sounds. It came out instead as "you're beautiful," while I moved toward her with only my lust letting it all hang out.

  Stupid me. Always ready for action. Never ready to tell anyone what I feel. But I guess I still don't really believe that someone so good, someone so kind, could find something worthwhile in me after all those years I served, however reluctantly, on the side of evil. Even now, clenched lids keep my emotions from overflowing.

  "Oh, Tom…" Gilly hugs me around the neck. "You've got the three most powerful witches on the eastern seaboard at your disposal until we have Cassie back with us. And every single one of us is happy to take our shot at destroying Eunice for good, even if we all have different reasons."

  "I know," I say, unclenching, back under control, no emotions spilled. But it's been so long since I had to deal with human emotions on a daily basis. All of it, the anger, the caring, the fear, the urgency, the heartache: I don't know how to deal with any of it. Most of that just went away all those years I was Cat.

  Natalie and Robert appear in the doorway, Natalie holding daintily to Robert's crooked arm. She gives Gillian a smile, but it looks more smug than friendly. "We're heading to the library now."

  Gilly grabs her coffee in one hand, the cup she fixed for Nat in the other, and follows after them. I get up to go, too, my coffee forgotten, my heart in turmoil again as the empty room underscores the emptiness inside. All I want is Cassie in my arms again. I grab a pad and paper off the table as I follow Gilly down the hall. It's time to write down the plan that started forming in my Cat-brain last night.

  ***

  Nat slams her book shut with a thud. I look up from my nap-invoking tome about Middle Eastern conceptions of the underworld, glad for a chance to do anything else with my eyes other than keep reading. I've been going back and forth between it and my plan, which now has a lot of scribbles about things to try: some of them are even sensible, but none of them are doable without knowing what will happen to Cassie if we go after Eunice.

  "There's nothing in here. Not even a mention of those skinwalkers you talked about, Robert. How do we even know Cassie is still present, still there?"

  "Natalie!" Gillian responds. "Of course she is! And it's just a matter of time before we figure out how to help her. We've only been working at this for a few hours."

  "No, I want proof. I need to know we can still save her. If we can't, then we can just go nuclear on the old witch."

  I set my book aside, "Fine. If it gets things moving, how do you prove it?"

  Nat glances toward the ceiling, lips compressed. You can almost see the wheels turning. When she looks back, she points to the group with the long, sharp, red-painted nail of her left index finger. "We'd have to keep the spell we do small. We don't want a lot of magic floating around so close to Eunice. She might sense it, know we're probing. So, nothing fancy. No floating medallions or group chants like the ones we used to find Tom when he went missing."

  I'm sick of this—she's acting like it's an intellectual exercise instead of life or death. Where is everyone's sense of urgency? I blurt, "So, go ahead. Tell us the plan. Let's get going."

  "Tsk. Patience." Natalie gives me a scolding look. "It wouldn't put as much magic out there to use caraway and rosemary instead of invoking the Goddess."

  Gillian nods. "It also has less chance of success. That's why we went all out for Tom."

  "I know," Nat says. "But you forget that we already know where Cassie is, if she is. I've got an oil that would work well for this. All we need is for the oil to turn blue during the questing. If it does, we know it's found the backwash from her essence. We don't have to spill the oil to make the path to lead us to her. We can end the spell and reuse that little bit of essence to hide Tom from the same kind of tricks."

  "So, you could find Cassie? And then you could make sure Eunice can't locate me? Let's do it." I spring up to give her a hug, but I unhug her and step back fast when she gives my butt a pinch. She's such an old pervert. And I'm trusting her with Cassie's safety? She cackles a little as I pull away. Seriously, she cackles.

  "Of course it will, dear. I'm surprised you still doubt me after all I've done for you. Robert, do you have caraway, rosemary, and jasmine oil?"

  "All but the jasmine oil. The rest is in the kitchen."

  Gilly speaks up. "I haven't got any, either, but it's available in the shop. I could go pick some up."

  I add to the plan when I realize her trip can serve a double purpose. "And you could sound out Eunice to see if she really doesn't know what went on when she was dead. If she knows how things are, then I don't have to sneak around anymore. We can be more direct, because she'll already be on the lookout for me," I say. "It's a good idea. I'm going with you." I jump to my feet, ready to take off.

  "And how would that work?" Gillian asks.

  "As cat. In your purse. It's huge. He'll be fine there. In a pinch, I could probably crawl in there without shifting first."

  She ignores my grin.

  "Don't be thick, Tom. What if she sees you?"

  "I'm not letting you go near her alone."

  "I don't know that you have anything to say about it. But I'm not worried for you—I'm protecting me. If you can promise me it won't mark me for trouble
, you can come. But you've said you think Eunice can sense when you're near. If she can…"

  "Oh hell." My grin fades. "I wasn't thinking. No, you're right. I'd only endanger you." I sit back down, adrenalin still revving and looking for a place to go. No way am I going to be able to stick my head back into a book.

  "Plus, I have errands I have to run this afternoon, so I can fit all of that in before I return this evening. I'm assuming the ritual is an evening affair, Nat?"

  "Absolutely, fall of darkness, all of that. Back by dusk? Would that work for everyone?"

  I realize I'm clenching my fist in frustration. "We can't do this faster?"

  "You want powerful magic, don't you? That doesn't happen in minutes."

  Gillian gives me a look that says she agrees, but it's a look full of sadness for me. And pity. I'm sure I see pity. Then she's out the door.

  Nat and Robert sink back into their big chairs with their books full of dusty old knowledge. I try to focus, but I'm no help. I'm not a scholar, and I never was much of a warlock. Ask me to recite poetry, and I can go for hours—poetry works great on the chicks. Put on a chef's hat and make a feast? That I can do. But wrestle with what's in a witch's grimoire? No, that talent always belonged to the women around me. I'd have been helpless against a witch even when I could access my magic.

  But I don't need magic now. We have the start of a plan. And I'm going to make sure that every bit of it gets explored as quickly as possible.

  Cassie's body fits me like a glove, but didn't I pick her for that?

  For long years, I enjoyed my Eunice-face, and the one I see when I look in the mirror today is close enough to feel familiar. The blue eyes, the chestnut hair, the delicate nose. It's much improved now that my fierce intelligence lights up her eyes instead of the semi-matte sheen of the girl's dull obedience.

  Her wardrobe is a mess. Nothing worth wearing—every item is an off-the-rack nightmare. What did she do with my clothes? And exactly how long have I been gone? I doubt much time has passed, but my loving granddaughter appears to have obliterated me from just about everywhere in my house except the attic. I'd have expected her granddaughter to hang on to Eunice's things for a good long time, wringing her hands and sobbing about how much she misses her granny. I'm surprised to find so much of the house has been cleared of my influence.

  It's simply irritating not to have kept control of the situation just because I was dead.

  At least when I feel around for her in here, there's no push-back like there was with that Eunice. She had far too much influence over me, constraining me with her courtesy and civility and niceness. This girl will stay beat down where she belongs. All those years I trained her to subjugate her own will to mine appears to have worked out just fine.

  I think I'll take my new body out for a walk. With the old one's creaky knees, it's been years since I could appreciate a chill night under the moon. It was late April when my spirit was gathered to my Ab Khr to wait for Cassie to release me. I could ring time and weather and find the date easily, but I can also tell from the sky.

  The streetlights obscure a full view of the stars, but what I see tells me I haven't waited in that attic long. It's summer. And the cafe still has its "New Menu" sign out with the same year listed as when I left. I haven't been gone long at all.

  I enjoy the breeze on my newly smooth skin. It's good to be alive in a new world ripe for the taking. Or at least the same old world with a brand new me.

  Tom won't have gone far. He never does. As I walk past the silent shops in downtown Giles, I hear rustling in the alleys from time to time and wait for him to emerge from the shadows repentant. He doesn't. But he will.

  It must have been a surprise for him, expecting boring Cassie and encountering me instead. I enjoyed his look of shock and recognition.

  He wasn't a cat when I returned, so Cassie must have discovered the magic words. I have to assume they had some fun after she freed him. It's his nature, my tomcat Tom. I did, after all, find myself dressed in one of the girl's nightgowns when I surfaced, with Tom in only pajama bottoms where he stood on the stairs. I would have loved to have seen the look on her insipid face when Tom first came bursting out of my kitten. It had to have been quite something.

  Oh well, it's so limiting when you're dead. You miss things. And Tom will come back to me in no time. He leaves, but he always returns. In the end, he misses me.

  I look forward to the improved fun factor with my new, young, juicy body. It's already humming with anticipation.

  Oh my, the things we'll do.

  ***

  My morning stretch is luxurious and completely unaccompanied by a crick in the neck, sciatica, and that grabbing feeling in my bowel. I adore this body I've stolen. I run my hands over its smooth, firm hips and abdomen. Yes, very nice. And that tingle…

  Wait, that's the tingle of Cat's spell, the thread that tells me Tom is near. I certainly hope he's come home.

  I slip on a nightie and focus on the direction of the magic spark. To the front of the house I go, but Tom isn't in the upstairs parlor in his basket. I realize the tingle is coming from outside. I look out to see if I can locate him, and there in the alley across the street, Cat lies curled up in the shadows, sleeping.

  I'll wake him up soon enough. Maybe he'd enjoy a visit from that pigeon he's obsessed with. I look down. Yes, there it is, sitting on the bench where it spends the day waiting for the crumbs people drop after visiting the bakery.

  Pigeons have such tiny brains. So easy to control, even from this distance. And with the sharp eyes I have now, I'll be able to see the entire thing in detail. How lovely. Cat really should have come home sooner. If he had, I wouldn't be forced to take drastic measures to get his attention.

  I send silvery strands of magic toward the strutting bird with my wishes embedded in them. They slip under its feathers and do their work.

  The pigeon flies true and drops to the ground next to Cat without waking him. Then it reaches out and gets its beak into the papery thin flesh of kitten-Tom's ear. These eyes are so good I swear I can even see a bright bead of blood left in the nick when the pigeon pulls away. It flies back to the bench with a fuzzy triangle of skin still held in its beak before it gobbles it down upon alighting.

  Cat startled awake when it happened, watched the pigeon's flight, then turned and ran out the back of the alley—the wrong way entirely. Still playing coy.

  Poor Tom. Poor, bad Tom. I have so many ways to punish him when he finally slinks home.

  That annoying Gillian flounces through the door, accompanied by the tinkle of the shop bell. Dressed like a nightmare, as usual. Always was. She's all big, floppy bosom under loose blouses and flowing skirts, with her long white hair pinned up in a sloppy bun. I can't imagine what Tom saw in her.

  "Hello sweetie," she calls to me. "Where's that cat of yours today? I've brought him a treat." She tears the top off a bag of cat snacks that smell strongly of rotting fish and walks around a set of shelves, peering into all the places a cat could hide. "Come on, Cat, I've got something special for you. It's been weeks since I've come to visit. You must have grown."

  I try to fake Cassie's friendly expression, but I don't know how to work facial muscles in that direction. I do the best I can, but it feels wrong, and I don't like it in the least. "Cat stayed out all night. Not here, I'm afraid. How are you today?" I say, but I'm begging silently to be saved from having to hear her answer. I'd rather tear the girl's ears off than engage in pleasantries with this one.

  "Too bad. I wanted to see how he likes these new treats. They were on special, and I immediately thought of him."

  I try for a cute, girlish titter, but I only manage something that sounds suspiciously like a bird call. Faking Cassie isn't as easy as I thought it would be. Perhaps I should have observed her more closely over the years. Too late now. "Gilly, you're too nice! I'm sure he'd love it if he were here. I expect him any minute. You know Cat—he always comes back. The shop is never without a Cat for long.
"

  "I'm sure you're right. I'll keep them in my purse for next time." She puts the packet of treats away and walks into the herb section. "I'll just pick up my shisandra and some jasmine oil then." She takes a small packet of herbs from the shelf and turns it over to look at the sticker. She always goes right to the price. How predictable.

  "Goodness, Cassie! What happened? The price has nearly doubled!"

  "Rising costs, Gilly. Rising costs." Of course, there are no rising costs. I've simply repaired some of the damage Cassie did to the prices while I was gone. There's no competition in Giles for what Cat's Magical Shoppe supplies, and there are a large number of witches and new age-y tourists who want it. Dropping prices under those conditions just isn't good business.

  "Oh, it's terrible, isn't it?" she agrees. "Prices just go up and up and up. I imagine the small business owner has a hard time these days."

  I expect a fight from her. She would have fought with Eunice. I always enjoyed the conflict, along with her inability to let go of Tom—I could just bring that up, and she'd be off in a frenzy of outrage. It was easy for me to take him away, of course, but I still enjoyed having deprived her. I can't poke that wound as Cassie. It will be difficult, but not impossible, to keep Gillian roughed up about that rivalry. I'll need to find a creative approach to the subject.

  I smile brightly at her. Once again, that doesn't feel like the right response, but I have no idea what emotion the girl would show or how she'd show it. She was always perky, always chirpy. That or sobbing about some ridiculous thing she'd blown up in her mind to be a tragedy. I haven't prepped for anything else. "Oh yes, the small business owner is really in a bind. Can I ring that up for you?"

  "Absolutely." She hands me her selections, and I check the prices as though I hadn't just written them up myself this morning. "That comes to twelve eighty-three with tax."