Witch's Awakening

by Neely Powell

  Brenna hoped she could get to her room without talking to anyone. Sarah and Marcus were usually in their studios by this time each day, and as she pulled into the driveway, she noted her parent’s rental car was gone. Though she knew she could spend the night wherever she chose, she didn’t want to explain herself to anyone in the family right now.

  “But I have no such luck,” she muttered as Fiona’s van came up behind her.

  Taking a deep breath, Brenna got out. She prepared herself for Fiona’s anger for making her tell the family about Aunt Celia.

  Fiona cranked down the window on her old van. “I was out this way to check out a story for my webcast and I thought I’d stop by. Are you just getting in?”

  Relieved there was no hostility in her sister’s tone, Brenna replied, “Yeah, I stayed at Jake’s.”

  “He’s a good guy. You could do worse.”

  Not ready to discuss exactly what she was doing with Jake, Brenna changed the subject. “Have you found a new haunting?”

  “We’re going to tape a webcast at the old Beech Chapel cemetery up the road. I’ve been getting some new voices from there, so I went up to plan the shoot. “

  “Anything that could help us figure out who the Woman in White is? There are some really old graves there.”

  Fiona shrugged. “We’ll see. Just like last night, I’m not connecting with anyone today.”

  Brenna frowned. Her sister’s lack of spiritual communication was strange. “What do you think is happening?”

  “I’m trying not to worry.” Fiona drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “I talked to Brian earlier. He said there wasn’t a single call into the sheriff’s department last night. That’s the first time since Garth died we’ve had a quiet night in town.”

  “That explains why Jake got to sleep in this morning.” Brenna knew she should be relieved no one was painting graffiti, shooting a spouse or beheading chickens. Instead, she was uneasy.

  “I’m headed to the hospital to see Doris. Want to come along?”

  Recognizing the olive branch, Brenna nodded. “Can I change into something a little less bloodstained and rumpled?” She indicated her ruined jeans and Jake’s T-shirt.

  Fiona cut off the ignition and went inside while Brenna went upstairs. She chose khaki shorts, a faded Atlanta Braves T-shirt and sandals. She even took the time to brush her hair, slide on a pair of dangly earrings, and add a little mascara and lipstick. After all, she might see Jake while in town.

  A meow of disapproval made her turn. Tasmin leapt onto the bed, looking disgruntled.

  “I’m sorry.” Brenna stroked the cat’s gray fur. “I promise I’ll see you later.”

  Tail straight in the air in a feline Bronx salute, Tasmin turned her back.

  “Have a great day yourself,” Brenna said, laughing as she went to join her sister.

  Equipment rattled in the back of the old van as Fiona guided it over the familiar road to town.

  “Anything new on Aunt Doris?” Brenna asked.

  “She may get out of ICU today.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  Fiona swallowed hard. “I was sure she was going to die before we could get help. There was so much blood.”

  Brenna did her best to hide her smile. Fiona could face the nastiest ghost with superb calm, but a paper cut made her go pale. “What’s the report from everyone else this morning?”

  “Everything at the store is back to normal except for the mess from last night. Eva Grace and Lauren are planning to do a cleansing spell this afternoon.”

  “Do they need us?”

  A line appeared between Fiona’s eyebrows. “You think Eva Grace and Lauren need help with a simple cleansing spell?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You implied it.”

  Brenna released a frustrated breath. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Eva Grace is trying to smooth over the discord in the coven right now.”

  “And I suppose you both think the discord is my fault.”

  “You believe there’s a traitor in our family. How can you even imagine one of us would betray the coven?”

  “That’s what Celia said.” Brenna spoke through gritted teeth.

  “I believe Dad is right about Aunt Celia’s ghost being a demon’s trick.”

  Brenna was torn on her own opinion. “But don’t you think it might have been her?”

  “She said to beware the traitor. I assumed she meant a traitor in the coven, but as pointed out last night, I could be wrong. Besides, even if it was Aunt Celia, she’s a ghost, an unpredictable spirit. I learned a long time ago not to trust everything spirits tell me. That’s why I didn’t want to tell anyone last night.”

  “How do you know she’s unpredictable when you’ve only seen her once?” Brenna’s eyes narrowed as she studied her sister. “Why are you so eager to side with Sarah?”

  “Sarah is the coven leader, the one we turn to when we need advice and counsel. It’s not wise to have conflict with the strongest witch we know. Plus, she’s our grandmother and she raised us. That should count for something.”

  “It’s also not wise to ignore warnings from ancestors.”

  Fiona pursed her lips and glared at the road.

  Brenna stifled a sharp retort. She had no desire to fight with her sister.

  The rest of the drive passed in silence. At the hospital, anger still stewed between them as they learned that Doris was in a private room.

  Though their great aunt looked weak and pale and had a bulky bandage on her neck, she was awake. Eva Grace was arranging crystals on the table. Lauren was with her, chanting softly. When she finished, Brenna and Fiona stepped into the room.

  “Hello.” Fiona leaned down to kiss the elderly woman. “You gave us an awful scare.”

  Doris nodded weakly. The wound in her throat prevented her from talking.

  Eva Grace patted the elder aunt’s hand. “According to the doctor, her progress is remarkable.”

  “You’re going to be fine, Aunt Doris.” Brenna smoothed the covers. “We all know you can’t keep a good witch down.”

  Doris drifted off to sleep while her nieces fussed over her. Lauren and Eva Grace discussed what they needed to do at the store that afternoon. Neither of them mentioned the family disagreement from last night, for which Brenna was grateful. Fiona sat at the bedside, still holding Doris’s hand while Brenna moved restlessly around the small room.

  Hospitals were too clinical. The walls should be a soothing color. Herbs should grow in little pots on the windowsill for healing and comfort. The light was all wrong as well. They needed pink bulbs to soften the edges. She looked at Eva Grace and wondered if her cousin would consider suggesting changes to the handsome doctor they met last night.

  Although it was too early for Eva Grace to be thinking of anyone other than Garth, Brenna thought Dr. Hargrave was a perfect candidate to remind Eva Grace she was very much alive.

  Maggie arrived next with a massive bouquet of day lilies. Brenna recognized them from Frances’s garden and shivered a little. Doris woke up and smiled at the blooms, obviously pleased to have them.

  Looking refreshed, Maggie spoke gently to the elder aunt. Maggie’s hair was back in its usual smooth style, her attire a pair of white cropped pants and a deep blue top. She was much more like herself today, and like the others, she made no mention of demons, traitors or the Woman in White. Obviously, none of them wanted to disturb Doris’s rest.

  Brenna studied the familiar faces. Really, the five of them could be sisters. They all had green eyes and varying shades of red in their hair. Eva Grace’s was dark cinnamon. Fiona’s brunette tresses were streaked with fire. Brenna, Lauren and Maggie were all auburn-haired, and all three were tall and statuesque. If you looked past the fact that Lauren dressed for maximum sex appeal and Maggie preferred sweater sets and tailored capris, those two cousins could be twins. All five of them were so much alike.

  All of them possible victims
for the Woman in White.

  And one of them perhaps a traitor?

  Brenna’s heart pounded in fear.

  By the goddess, she hated suspecting the women she loved most. She just wanted this nightmare to be over.

  Too many questions, and she needed to find some answers.

  It wasn’t long before Doris fell asleep again. Eva Grace and Maggie said they would stay until Aunt Diane arrived to sit with Doris this afternoon.

  Lauren was planning to take the night shift. “After all,” she purred, “I’m accustomed to being up all hours of the night.”

  Fiona gave Brenna the gagging sign behind Lauren’s back. Lauren chattered on about her social life, and Fiona made similar faces behind her all the way to the parking lot. Brenna coughed to cover her laughter. Lauren never suspected Fiona was busy behind her.

  Parting from their cousin, the sisters approached the van. Brenna was relieved to feel Fiona wasn’t so angry with her now. “Got any plans for the next couple of hours?” she asked.

  “Just some research for a client. Her husband claims her dear departed great-grandmother is driving the family crazy trying to find her favorite pearls.” Fiona laughed as she started her car.

  “Do you think you can find them?”

  “That’s the funny part,” Fiona said. “This particular ghost told me years ago her great-grandmother sold the pearls to buy the family home.”

  “So why not tell your client that?”

  “The client is the wife and every time she gets angry with him, she invites me in to look for the pearls again. He’s always looking for easy money and the thought that those pearls are hidden somewhere just drives him crazy. It gives his wife a good laugh.”

  “That’s kind of mean,” Brenna observed and laughed as her sister started the van. Fiona was such a softie most of the time that Brenna appreciated that she had a streak of mischief.

  “How about going with me to see our cousin Inez?” she invited Fiona.

  “The cousin who has all the history?”

  “She may know something important about the Woman in White. As you heard last night, neither Sarah nor any of the elder aunts have bothered to explore her records.”

  Fiona drove them to The Meadows, “a caring facility where the residents needs are the priority,” according to the sign at the entrance. It was a pleasant looking building with a wide front porch lined with rocking chairs. Four women and two men watched as Fiona and Brenna walked up to the door.

  “I hope you’re here to see me,” one of the men said to Brenna.

  “Nah, Charlie, it’s me. I’m younger than you,” the other man put in, eyeing Fiona.

  “You’re ninety-two.”

  “Yeah, but you’re ninety-seven and I can tell they’d like a younger man.”

  Brenna and Fiona were still smiling when they arrived at Inez’s room, an overly cheerful place that only had one thing missing—the lady herself. Set up like a comfortable studio apartment, the room had a purple velvet loveseat decorated with crystal buttons that battled with the primary hues of the bed’s patchwork quilt. Beside the loveseat was a blue recliner lift chair. Lacy lavender curtains were on the two small windows.

  Bookcases lined the walls, each filled with leather-bound maroon journals. As Brenna moved closer, she saw the books were embossed in gold with the dates of two years. Curious, she pulled one out and opened it. Neat, precise handwriting filled page after page, telling the story of her marriage and family in an easy manner that related events with the humor or tears they deserved.

  “Inez recorded almost every day of their lives and it’s actually interesting.” Brenna flipped through the pages, catching familiar names. “I’d love to read all of these.”

  They turned as a wheelchair entered the doorway. Though the woman in the chair was ancient, her voice was strong. “Oh, look, I’ve got company. Help me up, please.”

  A teenager who wore the mint-green smock of a high school volunteer helped Inez into the recliner. With the regal gesture of royalty, Inez dismissed the volunteer with her thanks.

  When Brenna started to speak, Inez held up a hand. “No, let me see if I can recognize you. It’s a little game I like to play to exercise my brain.”

  She studied both of them, moving from Brenna’s face to Fiona’s and back. After a moment her eyes lit with delight. “You’re Sarah’s granddaughters, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Fiona said. “We’re Delia’s girls. We’d like to visit with you a while if you have time.”

  The older woman cackled. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere else.”

  Brenna and Fiona sat gingerly on the purple loveseat.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I looked at one of your books,” Brenna said, holding up the volume she’d been scanning. “It’s amazing that you kept these journals.”

  “Not at all. I love to share my memories, especially with family.”

  “That’s good to hear. We’d like to talk to you about the Connelly family history,” Brenna said. “To get right to the point, we’re hoping to find some information about the Woman in White.”

  Inez’s bright smile dimmed. “Even though the Woman did not threaten me, my only daughter lost a friend to her, one who was like another of my children. My sweet Maeve still misses your Great Aunt Rose every day.”

  Tears glistened in Inez’s eyes. “Your grandmother and her sisters nearly grieved themselves to death when Rose was taken. I’ve always thought that was why Sarah went wild and took up with that gypsy.”

  Brenna and Fiona exchanged a glance. Sarah had nothing to say on the subject of their biological grandfather.

  “Did you know him?” Brenna asked.

  Inez sniffed. “Good heavens, Sarah barely knew him. All he did was put two babies in her belly and take off.”

  “She won’t talk about him,” Fiona said.

  Inez peered into Fiona’s face. “Well, you look a little like him with your dark hair and maybe the cut of your cheekbones.” She sighed. “I’m just glad Sarah found a good man at last.”

  “We all love Marcus,” Brenna agreed. She nodded to the room’s bookcases. “Are all of these books your journals?”

  “All but that case.” Inez pointed behind her. “Those are the records I’ve been able to obtain about our community and the Connelly family.”

  Brenna itched to dive into those volumes.

  Inez added, “I began writing in a diary when I was ten years old. I wanted to be sure there was a history of me, that future generations would know I existed.”

  “Why would a ten-year-old girl worry about that?” Fiona asked.

  Inez used the chair to lift herself to standing and tottered over to the tiny kitchen area. “Would you like some tea, ladies? I haven’t had visitors other than my children and grandchildren for a while, and I love to entertain.”

  “Of course,” Fiona said. “Can I help?”

  Inez didn’t hesitate. “Yes. The cups and saucers are there and I have a stash of cookies under the sink. If I don’t hide them, my great-great-grandson helps himself.”

  When they had everything prepared, Fiona brought the tea tray to the coffee table. Inez returned to her recliner, adjusting it so she sat comfortably.

  “This china is beautiful,” Brenna said admiring the array of flowers on the delicate cup.

  “It belonged to my husband’s great-grandmother. I was thrilled when his mother gave it to me.” The old woman’s voice strengthened with pride. “It was imported from Ireland. The Connellys never forgot their roots.”

  “You were going to tell us why you started keeping journals,” Fiona prompted.

  “I was left on the back steps of a church in Dahlonega. The minister and his wife, who were childless, became my parents. They were loving but very strict. I was determined to gain my freedom as soon as I could, so I ran off with Craig Connelly six months after his first wife died in childbirth. He had three small boys, but I knew I’d be freer with him than I ever woul
d with my parents.” Inez stopped to drink some tea.

  “And were you happy with him?” Brenna asked.

  “Absolutely,” Inez said with a laugh. “We had a home crowded with love and children—his three and our four—and the Connellys accepted me without hesitation. My daughter Maeve has some magical abilities, being a female Connelly, though she chose not to develop them. She was too heartbroken when Rose died. She distanced herself from the family. But for the first time in my life, with the Connellys, I knew what family was. Surrounded by all that magic, I wanted to be a Connelly witch, too.”

  Brenna nodded. “Is that why you began collecting family history?”

  “History can become very important to someone who has none of their own. Let me show you something that Craig and I found on Connelly land.”

  She started to get up again, but Brenna put a hand on her knee to stop her. “Let me get what you need.”

  “It’s the wooden box on the bottom shelf over there,” Inez said. “Like my great-great grandson, I like to keep my treasures.”

  Brenna retrieved the box. Inez took hold of it eagerly, but her hands trembled.

  “Are you okay?” Brenna asked Inez.

  The woman was focused on the box. “Why, I’m just fine, Brenna dear.” She opened the lid with great care. Small artifacts rested on velvet—several arrowheads in various sizes, some broken pottery, and a long, sharp, shiny rock that looked lethal. Inez picked it up.

  “This is a skinning knife,” she said. “The Cherokee were great hunters.”

  Fiona leaned forward and took one of the arrowheads. Brenna started as Fiona jerked and began to shiver.

  “What is it?” Brenna grabbed her sister’s other hand.

  Fiona flinched, as if in pain.

  Brenna had to pry the arrowhead from her sister’s grasp. Though she felt nothing from it, she was quick to return it to Inez’s box. Fiona took a deep breath and leaned back, visibly shaken.

  Alarmed by her sudden pallor, Brenna refilled her cup with tea and added a liberal amount of sugar. “Drink this.”