"I had one of my visions," Ginny explained. "You know, like I told you about? It's like I'm dreamin' but I'm really seein' stuff that's either gonna happen or is happenin' right now somewheres else. That's what it was this time-I went somewheres else. It was like I was a magnet and I got pulled. I ended up seeing a boy, a teenager, who has a real, live witch inside him."
Chalice did a double take and smiled nervously.
Jackie stood uncomfortably by the greasy stove, wondering whether he should take his coat off and sit down. Looking at the filth everywhere, he changed his mind and decided he really didn't want to touch anything there any more than he had to.
"She tell you her real name?" Stella asked, putting her hands palm down on the table and leaning over it, as if challenging him.
Jackie nodded.
Stella seemed surprised. She let out a soft, deep "Huh!" and backed off. She stood across the room, leaning against the sink, scrutinizing Jackie until he was squirming. He looked around for Chalice to return and rescue him and became aware of muffled voices from the room she'd gone into. A moment later she called to him.
`Jackie, come in here."
He let out a thankful sigh. Avoiding Stella's stare, he went into Ginny's bedroom.
"Is that the boy ya saw in ya vision?" Chalice asked the small girl sitting up amid the rumpled covers on the bed.
She shook her head.
"What visions? What's going on?" Jackie asked.
"Ginny, this is my friend Jackie."
Virginya smiled shyly and gave Jackie a small wave with her left hand.
"Tell him what ya just told me."
Virginya looked at Jackie, and her shy smile became a doubtful one.
"It's okay," Chalice encouraged. "Go ahead."
"We-ell," the girl started slowly, "this has been hap- penin' a lot, especially lately. Every time it's the same, like I'm asleep but I'm awake, too, only I ain't here, I'm somewheres else, like floatin' in the air."
Jackie shuddered involuntarily. The girl's dream sounded strangely like ones he could remember from childhood that were best left forgotten.
"Then I see things. Visions," she said, strongly, giving a confirming look to her aunt. "For a while now I been seem' this boy and he has a witch livin' inside a' him an' makin' him do things. Bad things. I don't know how she got in him, but she's in."
At the mention of "witch"Jackie's sphincter clenched reflexively. He looked from Ginny to Chalice, for a moment harboring the idea (wish?) that they were playing a cruel joke on him. Their expressions told him they were not.
"I ... I don't get it," he stammered. He felt suddenly off balance, like a sleeper who wakens on the very edge of the bed.
Chalice shrugged. "I don't either. Are ya sure this wasn't just a dream, Ginny? It doesn't sound like one of your usual visions."
The girl nodded her head with conviction. "I know it wasn't a dream." She looked from Chalice to Jackie and added in a soft voice, "It's scary. I been seem' the witch since winter-since you were home, Auntie-an' I been tryin' to get Mom to call you, but ... you know her."
Jackie crouched by the bed and looked at Virginya closely for the first time. She was pale and frail with blond hair and large, saucer eyes of a blue so dark they looked black. Her face was spattered with honeycolored freckles. Her lips were full, but chapped and chewed, as if she bit them on a regular basis. Jackie could see a stunning future beauty in her.
"Are you sure that what you're seeing is real? "Jackie asked her, embarrassed to hear the nervousness in his voice.
Virginya gave him a look of pity. "It's real," she said quietly. "The boy has a witch inside him. I don't know how but he does, and I mean a real, live witch, like in Snow White and The Wizard of Oz! " she finished, breathless and wide-eyed. She regarded Jackie's face for a moment, then added, "I know! It freaks me out, too."
Chalice and Jackie looked at each other and burst out laughing to hear such an adult expression coming from the child's mouth.
"What?" Ginny asked, defensively, perplexed by their laughter and feeling it was aimed at her.
Chalice rubbed her arm reassuringly and dismissed it with a shake of her head. "Do you know who this boy is?" she asked.
"No, but you do."
"I do?" Chalice was shocked.
"Yeah," Ginny said and looked at Jackie. "And I think you know him, too ... only better."
Virginya Hoar watched Aunt Chalice and her boyfriend (who knew the witch real well, she now realized) leave the hot dirty apartment she knew as home. She stood in the hallway staring at the door long after they were gone. She'd known where they were going, even though they hadn't wanted to tell her. Auntie's boyfriend, Jackie, had to go and find out if what she'd said was true. He wouldn't be able to help it. Ginny had begged Aunt Chalice to let her come, that she could help, but neither of them would hear of it.
"No! It's too dangerous," Aunt Chalice told her.
"But I can help! " Ginny tried to counter, but her aunt's boyfriend interrupted her.
"tinny, you had a seizure after being exposed to the witch this time. Who knows what could happen next time, or if you get too close to her? If what's going on is what I'm afraid of-if you saw the same witch that came after me thirteen years ago, and she's back," he said in an attempt to soothe her being left behind, "then you don't want to go anywhere near her. Besides, if you know about her, she probably knows about you and you're better off staying away."
Ginny understood the logic of his argument but had to disagree with it. There were things Jackie and Chalice didn't know. The witch hadn't seen her; she was sure of that. Well ... pretty sure.
I should have told them the truth. I should have told them the truth about the connection.
Just thinking about it gave Virginya chills. Every vision she'd had of the witch inside the boy since Christmas had drawn her and the witch a little closer. It had been a subtle attraction, one that Ginny didn't notice until it had grown quite strong.
Fortunately, she was pretty sure that the witch was not aware of her, but she understood the fear she'd seen on the face of Chalice's boyfriend when he spoke of the witch. She wasjust as fearful of her, but at the same time, the feeling she got whenever she saw the witch was exhilarating and alluring. The more she spied on the witch the more she felt a sense ofpowerover her. It was indescribable. Ginny had always been aware of the part of her mind that was special, that could sometimesnever at her beck and call-reach out and pluck information from other people's heads, or see future events. After a few episodes of spying on the witch-boy, she began to notice that these powers of her mind were stronger and growing more so each time. In fact, she had gained so much power-somehow transferred from the witch to her, she knew, but didn't understand how-that lately she had realized she could use her special gifts at will if she concentrated hard enough. If she tried, she knew she could use the power of her mind just like the witch did.
I have to do something, she thought. Aunt Chalice was heading for trouble-maybe worse-with the witch; Virginya was sure of it. Though the connection between Ginny and the witch had not grown to the point where she could read the witch's thoughts, she still got a strong sense of intention, and she knew the witch was busy planning something. Aunt Chalice had no idea how bad the witch could be. Her boyfriend knew how evil she could be; he had met her a long time ago. But it was a long time ago and Ginny wasn't sure he still remembered what the witch was really like.
A realization struck her-the witch is planning for the arrival of Aunt Chalice's boyfriend, Jackie. She had come to recognize direct input from the witch-boy in the past few months and now recognized this knowledge as such.
"The witch-boy is planning on Jackie showing up. And she's gonna have a party waitin' for him that he ain't gonna like," she fretted aloud. "Why didn't I see this sooner?
"I should have known. I could have kept them from going," she muttered.
She was unsure of Jackie-at least he had faced the witch before and survived, even hurt
her if what she felt was true-but Aunt Chalice was the exact opposite of the witch, and, therefore, no match for her. The witch was too mean and rotten with just plain badness. Given any opportunity for doing evil and hurting others, the witch gleefully took it. It was that glee, that joy in other people's pain and fear, that Virginya found most disturbing about the witch; Ginny unwillingly shared that joy whenever she linked her mind to the witch's. So much pleasure from inflicting so much terror and injury. But the worst of it was that sometimes-and this she would never admit to anyone, not even Aunt Chalice; and maybe it was this one shameful thing that had kept her from revealing the truth to her aunt about her link with the witch-sometimes Ginny liked it as much as the witch.
And that scared her.
She turned and went into the kitchen where her mother sat at the table, rolling a joint.
"Aunt Chalice is in trouble. We need to help her," she said in a soft, yet serious voice.
Her mother laughed at her, licked the Zig-Zag papers she was rolling, and finished preparing the joint. She put it in her mouth and lit it with a disposable butane lighter. Virginya started to speak again, but her mother looked at her and held up her stop sign hand-her signal for: "Leave me alone! Go away! Don't bother me, I'm getting high! Stop intruding on my life, you little pain in the ass!" Though Stella Hoar had never spoken those words to her daughter, Ginny had heard them in random thoughts that had come to her. They were no less hurtful there than if she had spoken them. Even so, it was just as bad that she had often overheard her mother complaining to her stoner friends what a burden it was to raise a kid when all she wanted to do in life was get wasted. The hand in the air was also a warning that if Ginny didn't go away and leave her mother alone, she'd be getting a slap and spending the rest of the day locked in her bedroom. Normally, Ginny would have made herself scarce, but this wasn't normally; this was for Aunt Chalice!
Stella closed her eyes and took a long drag from the joint, held it in, then let it out in a long, slow blue cloud of pungent smoke. She lowered her hand, opened her eyes, and looked at her daughter. "You're still here?"
"We need to go now," Ginny said, calmly yet forcefully.
Stella laughed, but it wasn't laughter in appreciation of humor. It was a mean, threatening laugh. "I suggest you go away, now, Virginya U. Hoar, if you know what's good for you," she said, using her daughter's full name to emphasize the threat.
This was going nowhere and time was wastingGinny had an idea. Talking to her mother obviously wasn't going to be enough; she needed more. And, courtesy of her link with the witch and the new powers she had discovered through the link, she now had that more. She'd felt the more in her mind for days now, and it was especially strong after her most recent episode with the witch. Taking a deep breath, she went to her mother's side and took her hand.
"Stella," she said evenly, "put out the joint, get your car keys, and take me to where Aunt Chalice is." As she spoke, Ginny looked her mother directly in the eye, and felt her mind push out, stab into her mother's thoughts, and stick.
Stella Hoar looked at her daughter strangely for a moment as if she were a stranger who had just appeared in her kitchen. She blinked, shivered, and smiled. She put out the marijuana cigarette.
"Of course, darling," she said. She immediately picked her keys off the countertop where they lay, took Ginny's hand, and led her out of the apartment.
They're coming!
Steve Nailer sat in the open window of the tower room.
He's coming. At last. The boy now grown into a man, the boy responsible for everything!
Jack be nimble, and eat no fat-or something like that. Whatever.... This time you won't make it down the candlestick or over the beanstalk.
She chuckles and shivers with anticipation. At last she can avenge herself and start to right all that is wrong. Once she is rid of Wee Jackie Winky!
Independence Day. How appropriate.
Soon she will be free of thepast...
With a great deal of effort, she reaches out, draws the image in: the target of her desires driving on the interstate and in the passenger seat next to him, the love of his life.
Horn delicious.
What fun vengeance will be with this added tidbit. She cannot wait for their arrival.
But something else is looming, also-something or someone else shrouded in gray. It feels foreboding, but she cannot put any sense or face to it. Whatever it is, is beyond the Machine. Preoccupied with so many minds to manipulate, so much to do, and the Machine failing as badly at times as her grip on Steve Nailer, she pushes the feeling aside, where it is overlooked and ignored.
"The witch knows Aunt Chalice and Jackie are coming," Virginya Hoar said to her mother as they drove on Interstate 95, nearing the Massachusetts border.
"That's nice, darling," Stella Hoar droned.
"But she doesn't know I'm coming," Ginny added thoughtfully, as if considering a lengthy computation the solution of which she could suddenly see within her grasp. She wasn't sure why the witch couldn't see her approach, but she was glad of it. She hoped it stayed that way.
Miles ahead of Stella and Virginya Hoar, Jackie Nailer and Chalice Silver drove along the same highway, approaching their exit.
Jen woke and was surprised to see daylight streaming through the window.
What the hell time is it?
She rolled over to see the bedside clock-2:30.
What? I never sleep this late! The cookout! I've got to get things ready!
She started to get up, but a strong hand on her shoulder prevented her. "The doctor says you need to stay in bed until it's time to deliver the baby."
It was Debbie, Jeremy's sister. Jen looked at her and couldn't understand why she was suddenly overcome with sympathy, guilt, and grief at the sight of her sisterin-law. She wasn't confused for long. Memory overcame the brief hazy amnesia of post-sleep and the image of her husband raping her little brother once again seared her psyche. Debbie's words, "He did the same to me, "echoed in her ears. Poor Debbie! The injury of realizing that the man she loved so much could be responsible for causing so much pain cut deep.
How many other children has he abused?
A voice from the doorway answered her thought: "Countless others-hundreds at least, maybe thousands." The tall figure of the doctor stepped into the room. He came to the bed, and as he passed through the shaft of sunlight cast by the window, his face blurred for a moment. Jen could have sworn that in that moment his face changed and became the face of her grandmother-for less time than it takes to blink an eye-then changed back.
She gasped and the doctor stopped in the middle of the room, seemingly unnerved by her reaction. His confident, suave manner faltered, his strong posture weakened-he looked uncertain, confused. Similarly, at the foot of the bed, Debbie suddenly appeared unsteady, swaying and putting a hand to her head as if dizzy. Jen, too, felt different. It was as if a strong, cold wind had just blown through the room and her mind, bringing a clarity of thought she realized she hadn't had in days, at least. The clarity was not to last. Like an old record player turntable going from slow to regular speed, the doctor straightened and once again exuded confidence and power.
Where's my mother? Jen tried to remember in her moment of clear thinking, but as the doctor regained his composure, and befuddlement descended over her once again, thoughts of her mother, or anything else, were driven from her mind by the return of intense pain in her womb. She groaned and collapsed back on the bed.
GET OUT OF MY HEAD!
Steve Nailer barely made it out of his sister's room before his knees buckled and he nearly fell heavily to the carpeted hallway floor. He clasped his hands to his head and moaned in pain.
Its getting worse. Control is slipping away.
GET OUT OF MY HEAD!
The boy's voice is a blinding white light, smoldering and soldering excruciating pain to every psychic nerve in her. It is staggering; unbearable.
Got to hold on. Got to.
Exhaust
ed with the effort of the attack, Steve Nailer's disembodied psyche slipped back into the ocean of subconsciousness, but not beneath its waves. Though drained from bringing so much force of will against the invading entity in his head, he also felt a great deal of satisfaction and encouragement. He now knew he could hurt the witch in his head and hurt her bad. Each time he surfaced, he could tell he hurt her more. A few more attacks and he thought he might just be able to drive her out, or even kill her, though how he might actually do either of those things remained a mystery.
The witch is sick.
Virginya Hoar knew it as sure as she knew the sunlight was warm on her arm. She could feel the witch's sickness as though it were her own and felt herself weakening as the witch weakened. She tried not to fight it; her biggest fear was that the witch would become aware of her. With the link between them growing stronger the closer she got to the witch's location, Ginny was afraid if she felt as weak as the witch and fought it, the witch might benefit and feel better, too. And if that happened, she might become aware of Ginny.
Neither prospect was welcome.
Mom, turn on the radio, she thought and her mother obliged. An oldies station came on playing Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven."
That's what I need, something to keep me from thinking about the witch.
She listened to the song and began to doze. With the passage into napping came a dream of a long, winding staircase leading to a pair of tall golden gates sitting on a cloud at the very top of the stairs. Halfway up, the witch, bereft of her boy's body, naked and exposed in all her original body's disgusting ugly oldness, was climbing slowly on her hands and knees.
At the turn for Route 116, Jackie hesitated, staring at the road sign. A moment of thought later, he turned the car toward Sunderland rather than Northwood, and drove on.
"Aren't we going to Jen's?" Chalice asked.
"I want to go check on my mother's house first, see if she's there." Five minutes later they were pulling into the empty driveway of the cottage in Sunderland. As they got out of the car, an old woman-apparently the neighbor from across the street-hurried over to accost them.
Grimm Reapings Page 27