Witches

by Christina Harlin

  Rosemary gave a slight bow. “Thank you for inviting us to your home.”

  Greg, unexpectedly, poked his face in front of one of the cameras and said, “Remember, friends, that when you shop at scarlet&black.com, entering the code ‘othernaturals’ will get you fifteen percent off your total order, not including shipping of course.” He gave an enthusiastic thumbs up and then went back to his assigned spot.

  “I feel cheap and dirty,” Drew drawled, and a few snickers were quickly covered up by coughs.

  Cloda stroked the shawl, cooing. “I love pretty things and lordy do I have a sweet tooth. You see how many pretty things I’ve got – gifts from my customers. They know my little dolls work.”

  “Yes, we’ve all seen the power of your little dolls,” Sally said. Clearly she’d been chewing on this retort for a while now, just biding her time. “At Lutilla Heston’s mansion. Almost thirty people, some nearly killed.”

  “We all get what’s coming to us,” was what Cloda Baker had to say in response to Sally’s admonition.

  “You showed Irving Howell how to summon a hunger demon,” said Sally. “And yet you call yourself a white witch.”

  “I don’t call myself that,” said Cloda. “Ain’t no such thing anyway. A witch is a witch, and a hunger demon don’t feed on those who don’t deserve it.”

  “From what I saw, a hunger demon thinks everyone deserves it.”

  “Irving comes from an evil world. You’re angry at me, aren’t you Goldilocks?”

  Sally groaned and closed her eyes.

  “Let’s not pick on Sally especially,” said Kaye rather crossly, putting her hand on Sally’s shoulder. “I nearly died in that little hunger-demon exploit; would have died if not for that man there,” and she nodded gravely at Stefan. “None of us came here thinking you were a benefactor.”

  Cloda was apparently enjoying herself, if her bright eyes and wide smile told them anything. Never mind if people suspected her motives; it appeared that bright clothes and candy were all the positive reinforcement she needed.

  It was uncanny the way that, suddenly, with the mood in the room darkening thanks to Sally’s ire, Cloda’s focus fixated on another vulnerable soul in the group. Judge Duncan, quieter than usual, was keeping to the corner, leaning on the wall with his hands behind his back and Vladimir’s crate at his feet. Cloda’s bright gaze took on an opportunistic glint and she said to him, “I’m inclined to ask about your pussycat there. Might I have a look at him?”

  Judge frowned. “I want to let him sleep and keep him still. He went through a really bad ordeal over the weekend.”

  “I won’t lay a finger on him,” Cloda promised. “Bring him closer so’s I can see him though. There’s a smell about him; like something I ain’t known in a good long while.”

  Gingerly Judge lifted the crate and set it on the bed, just out of Cloda’s reach. Vladimir slept on inside in a satisfied haze of medication and sardines, sometimes emitting a small woofing snore. Cloda leaned forward and peered through the crate’s cage door, clicking her tongue again. “This pussycat’s has been somewhere else, hasn’t he? Been to the other side and come back. How did you do it?”

  Stefan asked, “How on earth did you know that?”

  “I know magic when I see it.”

  “Or she could have just guessed,” said Sally dismissively. “Right, Cloda? Because Judge is protective and you can see the cat’s been hurt.”

  Cloda took no offense. Kaye considered that, in this old woman, they might be looking at the future of Rosemary, assuming Rosemary didn’t get herself killed before she made it to 94: a wily spell caster with absolutely no shame or regrets. Cloda agreed with Sally in precisely the right way to show that Sally’s opinion made no difference to her at all. “Why, sure I could be just guessing. But humor an old woman and tell me what happened to your pussycat.”

  It was Judge’s cat, so Judge’s story to tell. He explained, “A young man who had been resurrected from the dead himself brought Vladimir back from the place he called the ‘Beside’. Vladimir died of unnatural causes, which apparently gives you a little wiggle-room when it comes to the permanency of death.”

  “I’ll buy some of his fur off’n you,” Cloda said.

  A shocked Judge asked, “What?”

  “Give you a hunnert dollars for the fur off his belly. Wouldn’t hurt him none to shave it. I could make some powerful spells with it.”

  “A hundred dollars!” Judge exclaimed. “For Vlad’s belly fur? Uh - no, no ma’am, I’m sorry, but I’m not shaving my cat.”

  “I think you’ve already got enough powerful spells,” Sally grumbled softly.

  “A resurrected pussycat, my my. That’s big magic,” said Cloda. She’d started to extend a finger into Vladimir’s crate, despite having told Judge she wouldn’t, but now she drew back in hesitation. “Bigger’n you’uns have a right to be messing in. And here you scold me for hunger demons.”

  For a moment it seemed an argument might break out in earnest. Then Rosemary spoke, her tone brooking no further provocation from either side. “All right, that’s enough. I don’t think we need to parry back and forth about who’s got the riskier profession. I doubt you would have invited us here if you didn’t need us, Miss Cloda. We’re suitably impressed with your craft. We’re not bad at what we do either and we’ve seen our share of big magic, thanks very much. Tell us what you need.”

  Cloda smacked her lips together, the first sign of distress Kaye had seen. “My folk on the mountain are in danger, and it’s my fault. My grandson Elton’s fault.

  “Listen here, now. I been up on this mountaintop all my life, with my family moved away one at a time -or passed on - until there was no one but me and the goaties. But I always had visitors, sometimes two and three ever’day. All my folk on the mountain and thereabouts, they come to me for their little squabbles and what-have-yous. And sometimes they move off and start families in them big places, and they tell other folk about me. They come still sometimes, those from St. Louis and Memphis, and those from Little Rock, and Springfield. Maybe your web program will bring me new friends and visitors, you reckon?”

  Rosemary agreed, a bit dryly, “Oh, I reckon, indeed.”

  Cloda gave her hands a little clap, then resumed, “But those what live on the mountain, they still came regular, leastwise they did until last year. It’s been months since I’ve seen any of them. Nowadays I get no visitors except for Ardelia. Then there’s Elton, my grandson, he’s looked after me most since my older brother Willie died last year,

  “Willie – your older brother?” asked Greg; they were all surprised a woman of 94 could have an “older” brother. What fantastic genes this family must have.

  “Willie died last year.” Cloda sounded mildly surprised at her own words, tears gathering in her bright eyes. “I woulda thought Ardelia to tell you. We lost our Willie when he was arrested – his heart couldn’t take it.” A tear slipped down her crepe-paper cheek.

  “We’re so sorry that your brother passed away,” said Rosemary.

  Cloda forged on. “But even before Willie died, Elton was always a good boy who’d come a’visiting at least once or twice of a week. Now he’s stopped coming. He don’t answer my calls. Ardelia says he’s still workin’ and still driving around that big truck of his. I said, ‘Delia, tell that boy to come see his Nana Cloda’ and she promises she will, but I don’t never see him.”

  “We saw Elton just last night,” said Stefan. “He offered to take Miss Ardelia in to town.”

  “How’s he look?” asked Cloda. “Be truthful now. I know he’s a big boy, I know he don’t look quite right, but ain’t nothing wrong with his mind and he’s as good a grandson as any woman could want.”

  Kaye was fairly certain Elton Baker was older than her own 45 years, so it was odd to hear him referred to as a “boy” and a “good grandson.” Of course, since the 94-year-old grandmother was the one talking, a fifty-something “boy” was entirely possible.

&nb
sp; After a brief silence, Kaye realized the others were going to let her answer; she was always the one who answered questions about suspect appearances. “He didn’t look well, Miss Cloda. He appears to have lost a lot of weight, fast, and recently. He wasn’t particularly responsive - that is, he didn’t seem to be fully aware of his surroundings. But yes, he was driving, and he did speak with Ardelia.”

  “Tell her about the people in Slope,” Sally said. She didn’t give anyone time to do so, however, continuing, “Everybody in Slope looks like that, only worse. They all look skinny and sick, and they all act like they’re sleepwalking. It all looks pretty familiar, you know, quite a bit like the people in Colorado.”

  “Like they’re under a curse,” said Cloda.

  Sally narrowed her eyes. “Yes, exactly like they’re under a curse.”

  Kaye watched with interest as Sally and Cloda engaged in a brief staring contest. Drew interrupted this, asking, “Why was your brother Willie arrested?”

  Cloda shook her head. “It was pack of lies. He was almost a hundred years old. He couldn’t have done what they said. Sheriff Lila didn’t reckon they’d keep him more than the night but this new judge in the county seat, she was fit to be tied about the whole thing, and so he spent three days in that cell and it killed him. His heart just gave out.” She paused and cleared her throat, resuming more strongly, “Of course I wasn’t there myself. I don’t come down off’n the mountain. My daughter Ardelia and my grandson Elton told me about it; they were there for the whole terrible thing.”

  Kaye was troubled by a number of things in this rendition of the story, starting with what Cloda hadn’t said, then with a judge’s decision to let a man of such advanced years lie in a prison cell instead of, more appropriately, a hospital ward, and finally, Cloda’s switching of Ardelia from her “baby sister” to her “daughter.” A senior moment?

  Cloda continued, “It broke their hearts. Ardelia ain’t been the same since. Elton was furious. And I’m heartbroken too but revenge ain’t my way. I’m worried that Elton is using the magic I taught him to hurt those that testified against Willie. Ain’t none of them been to see me since Willie died – even if they was ashamed of themselves, I know some of them would still come here, needing my help, or to apologize at least for what was done.”

  “There’s a lot you’re not telling us,” Rosemary said to the elderly woman. “If you want our help, you should tell us everything we need to know. What did the Slope people accuse Willie of?”

  Exasperated, Cloda whined, “How much do you need to know, to lift whatever mischief Elton is causing? Irving Howell told me – he promised me – that y’all could fix it. He said you’ve lifted curses and that you truck with demons.”

  “Truck with demons!” Drew exclaimed in wonder. “Oh pardon me, I just love the turn of phrase.”

  Cloda instructed, “You bring Elton here to me, so’s I can figure out what he’s done.”

  “All right.” Rosemary was typing notes into her phone. “Now Cloda, my team here can sniff out a curse or a spell without much trouble. You’re right about that. But what are we supposed to do if one of your protection charms is on the place? The one on Ardelia’s house is a nightmare; it stabs at our thoughts every time we try to do anything on the psychic spectrum.”

  Cloda peered at them with sudden suspicion. “What are you messing around with in my daughter’s house?”

  Kaye wondered, was anyone going to ask Cloda or correct her about her relationship with Ardelia? Maybe nobody cared. Oh well, what difference did it make?

  “My daughter’s too stubborn to protect herself,” Cloda said. “She’s a fool. A bloodline of powerful witches goin’ back four hunnert years and she won’t accept the gifts that God gave her. Leaves herself open to anyone or anything with a bone to pick with either me, or Elton, or Willie himself. I won’t lift the protection nor tell you how to do it.”

  Rosemary sighed. “Fine, so long as you know that you’re handicapping us, especially if Elton is under some kind of protection too.”

  “All I ask is that you bring him here. How hard could it be to make a man visit his grandmother?”

  “Now, just a moment,” argued Drew. “First, I wonder if you recall the size of your grandson. We’d need a bulldozer to get him up here against his will. Second, I am certain you have tried getting him here yourself, with a summoning spell or some sort of beckoning. Am I correct?”

  Cloda looked as if she might deny it. She was obviously accustomed to playing the innocent, “foolish old gal” routine to avoid having to answer questions. Drew, on the other hand, seldom had trouble getting women to tell him what he wanted to know, even if his psychic sneak was chained down. With a grunt, Cloda said, “Whatever Elton has done, it’s powerful enough to stop my magic. I’m the one that taught him; I s’pose I should be proud.”

  Sally asked, “Why on earth would Elton cast a spell on himself?”

  “Because revenge makes folk act like fools, if you must know.” Cloda looked again at Sally. “Goldilocks knows that, don’tcha? How close did your Irving come to being eaten by one of his own preta? Pretty close, he told me. I’d bet my own eyeteeth that Elton cast a curse on those that testified against Willie, and cast it strong enough that he got pulled into it, without realizing. Fool boy never thought to protect himself. If you ever have your sights set on revenge, listen to old Cloda here and make sure you don’t end up in the crosshairs.”

  “Dig two graves,” Drew finished quietly, alluding to the old saying about vengeance.

  Cloda nodded. Fatigue was beginning to show in the set of her shoulders.

  “Ma’am, you haven’t answered our question,” Drew pressed. “If Elton doesn’t want to come with us, and if you’ve got protection spells on him, what are we supposed to do?”

  “Whatever he has done, young man, it was strong enough to break any protections I had on the boy.” Again, Cloda seemed torn between pride and dismay. “If you can’t coax him into coming here, then find the source of the curse and bring that to me. But it’s better, if you can bring Elton. I’ll make it so he can’t do nothing like this again.”

  Rosemary was alarmed. “What – how?”

  “I wouldn’t harm him,” Cloda replied in irritation. The elderly woman was growing more tired by the minute. Once her energy flagged, it flagged fast. She vowed, “My own flesh and blood, I’d never harm him. But I’ll take away what power I gave him, so’s he can’t cast no more spells.”

  “You gave Elton – I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” said Rosemary.

  “It’s a simple thing,” said Cloda, though the expression in her sagging features implied that it was far from simple. “He was a boy. Girls in the family line barely have to try and the magic comes to them. Boys, no – something about their sex won’t allow for it. Maybe too much randiness in them. You have to wake it up. With Elton I used an old, old family spell. White candle, red dog’s hair, mother’s blood and red apples. Burned sticks of willow in a raft at his feet. The magic wakes up. I’ll undo the spell and put his magic back to sleep, though it might kill me to try. It’s better than him killing all those people for the sake of revenge – God is the judge, not we.”

  A prickle of interest had gone down Kaye’s spine when she understood what Cloda was saying. A spell for sharing power, or transferring it? Many times, she and Milo had spoken (well, perhaps hinted was the better word) about how wonderful it would be if he, Milo, had inherited some of her mysterious and marvelous talent for healing.

  She pressed Cloda for clarification. “You said the spell has been in your family for some time. So, I assume that it’s worked more than once?”

  Cloda nodded wearily. “It’s the same what was used for my brother Willie when he was just a young fella.” Her eyes flicked to the grand old grimoire on her table, which was all the information Kaye needed. The spell was in that book, along with who knew what else.

  “She’s worn out,” Rosemary told them. “I think we should leav
e Cloda alone now. Is that all right, Cloda?”

  “I just need to rest my eyes,” Cloda said.

  “We’ll do some checking tonight and tomorrow,” Rosemary said. “We’ll see if we can figure out the source of the curse, and if we can, we’ll bring that to you, and we’ll bring Elton if we can. One or the other, or both. Surely that will get things rolling.”

  “I can’t just—” Kaye began, looking around at them. She mouthed, she’s so old! “Ms. Baker, I worry about leaving you here alone. Maybe you’d like to come down to Slope with us, and visit your, um, Ardelia.”

  Cloda cackled. The strength of that harsh laugh surprised Kaye, who’d thought the woman was exhausted. “Ardelia wouldn’t let me through her front door, I don’t imagine. But I won’t be leaving here, never again. And I don’t need nobody fussin’ over me. You all come back tomorrow and you bring my grandson to me so I can fix what he’s broken.”

  Chapter Seven

  Othernaturals Season 6, Episode 5

  Eyeteeth Mountain, Missouri; June 2015

  Coming down the mountain was far easier than going up, and to Kaye, and in fact to everyone, things seemed to be going well until Stefan, who had taken over the driving, said, “Well, we’re mostly just sliding down anyway.” It was often hard to tell when her man was joking. When he gave this opinion, it seemed like everyone grasped a seat handle nearby, double-checked seatbelts and braced themselves. The rain simply would not let up; down it pelted. In her home state of Oklahoma, storms like this didn’t come without tornado warnings. Would we even know if there was a tornado coming? Kaye wondered. Would we be able to tell a difference? A good F4 tornado might actually improve the looks of Slope.

  They slipped along, descending. Using her cell phone, Rosemary searched for information on the arrest and subsequent death of Willie Baker. After a minute she gaped and exclaimed, “You’re not going to believe this. Willie Baker of Slope, Missouri, age 97, was arrested under suspicion of multiple counts of rape.”