Witchery, p.25
Witchery, page 25
"It's called growing up, Dad." She put her attention back on her oatmeal.
"Is there anything you want to talk to me about? Anything going on at school or-?"
She met his eyes, her own looking impatient now. "I'm not taking drugs or having sex if that's what you're asking."
He felt his jaw drop. "No. That's not what I was asking," he stammered. "You're way too young for me to be worrying about those kinds of things."
She rolled her eyes. "Right."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, Dad. I gotta go. Tell the people on your happy little planet I said bye, will you?" She softened the words with a teasing wink.
"Very funny."
Rowan got to her feel and slung her backpack over her shoulder. She started to go, then sighed and turned back. "Actually, there is something I want to talk about," she said.
He almost grinned. She wanted to talk to him! Finally! He smothered the urge to smile ear to ear, put on a serious face, and said. "What is it?"
She drew a deep breath, as if for courage. "Mom. I want to know everything about her."
"But honey. I've always talked to you about your mom. I think I've probably told you just about everything I know."
"No, you haven't," she said.
He held her gaze for only a moment. And then he had to look away. Shit. How much did she know?
When he looked at her again, her eyes were closed. "I see her in my dreams, you know. Especially lately. She was so beautiful...way more than she is in any of her pictures. I don't remember her being that beautiful."
"You were only four, honey. Don't feel bad for not remembering. And if you wonder how beautiful your mom was, all you have to do is look in a mirror."
She opened her eyes. They were damp. "Really? You think I look like her?"
"More every day." He was getting a little tight in the throat himself.
Rowan licked her lips. "Dad, it's like she's trying to tell me something, but I just can't get what. That's why I've been trying to talk to her, when I'm awake, you know, but...well, so far, I don't think it's working."
He swallowed the dryness in his throat. "That's because it's not possible. I'm sorry, hon, but it's just not."
"I don't believe that. And I don't think Mom did, either."
She leaned down, and kissed his cheek. "But I'm going to be late if I don't get going. Sometime, though, Dad, you have to tell me about Mom. The stuff you haven't told me before. Okay?"
"Yeah. Sure." He said it softly, distracted, shaken. His daughter managed a smile, but he thought he saw doubt in her eyes. "I promise," he added.
"Okay," she said. She reached behind her to pull her iPod out of her backpack and push her earbuds into place.
He watched her go and made a mental note to call the school, set up conferences with some of Rowan's teachers. Maybe that would give him some insight into what was going on with her. There was that one teacher she was always talking about...Miss Saint A., Rowan called her. She was one of the only teachers his daughter ever mentioned in any positive sort of way.
Yes. Miss Saint A. He'd start with her. She might be just the person to help him wipe all this hocus-pocus nonsense out of Rowan's head once and for all.
CHAPTER TWO
"I have to say, I agree with you, Mirabella. I don't think it was a dream either."
"What then?"
Mirabella sat across from her dearest friend. Gwenyth, at a round table in the back of Gwen's shop. Between them, Tarot cards lay face up, spread out in familiar patterns. The shop was housed in the lower front portion of the oversized Victorian house Gwen had inherited from her great-grandmother. She lived in the rest of it. Along with whatever stray creatures wandered in looking for a place to rest or a solid meal. Gwen could never turn away an animal in need.
The front of the shop had a large bay window that housed hunks of uncut quartz and amethyst, an assortment of candle holders and incense burners, several pieces of pyrite from the stream out back, a stack of obscure looking books, and a black cat called Circe who was usually curled up, sound asleep. Circe was the first and the favorite of all Gwen's pets. The gold, gothic lettering on the door spelled Gwenyth's Chamber in a curving arch. Beneath it, in smaller block letters, was a list:
Occult Supplies
Tools of Divination
Herbs
Oils
Brews
Candles
Psychic Readings
by appointment only
The shop–and Gwenyth–fit into this small town about as well as a square peg in a round hole. Mirabella had always been much more discreet about her beliefs. She had to be. She was a teacher at the high school, for goodness sake!
"If it wasn't a dream, Gwen, then what was it?" she asked.
Gwen drew a deep breath and flipped over another Tarot card. She was a petite woman, with honey gold hair that curled untamed to her shoulders. She wore jeans and a black sweatshirt that said "Witch and famous" on the front in orange letters. And of course, there was the ever-present pentacle on a chain around her neck.
"A warning," she said at last. "I think it was a warning. It's definitely not past life, though there are connections to one. It looks like...something in the future." She looked up from the cards, meeting Mirabella's eyes, and hers seemed worried. "Honey, have you been talking to any of your students about the Craft?"
"You think I'm insane? Of course not."
Gwen shrugged. "Well. I don't know then. You know, up until recently, Wiccans in Ezra Township have been left pretty much alone. The locals grate their teeth and roll their eyes and tolerate us. Barely. But the tide's shifting, Mirabella. It's getting dangerous out there."
Bella nodded. "I know."
"Maybe you don't."
Frowning, Mirabella said, "What do you mean?"
Gwen licked her lips nervously, and Bella could see she was debating whether to say anything more. Then she seemed to decide all at once. "I've been getting threats."
Mirabella sucked in a breath and widened her eyes. "What kinds of threats?"
Gwen got up from her seat at the table and walked past the row of pewter figurines to step behind the counter with the antique register on it. She drew a manila envelope from beneath the counter and slid it across to Mirabella. Bella opened it and took out the contents. Scraps of paper, entire sheets, some folded, some not. All basically bearing the same message. "We don't want Witches in Ezra Township. Get out while you still can." Some were more colorfully worded than others, but the gist was the same.
"How long has this been going on?" Mirabella asked.
"A couple of weeks. About as long as the spree of animal murders they've been attributing to this so-called occult group that's cropped up. The problem is, there is no occult group. I'm pretty well networked, and I'd know if there was. I haven't heard a thing. Either these nuts are from out of town or...or I don't know what to think."
"Why didn't you say something about these threats before, Gwen?"
She shrugged. "Didn't see what good it would have done." She licked her lips. "I've had an offer on the house, Bella. Mark Hayes from the real estate office is willing to give me a very good price for it."
"When did you go see him?" Bella asked, frowning.
"I didn't. He came to see me. Actually, it had nothing to do with business. He asked permission to do some fishing in the stream out back-way back in April, and he's been popping in ever since. Says he's fallen in love with the place."
"But...you're not considering selling?"
Gwen shrugged. "I wasn't. But since all of this—yeah, I'm thinking about taking it."
"That's totally unlike you, Gwen. To give up and run away."
Gwen licked her lips. "I don't like the whole town thinking I'm into butchering innocent house pets and defacing hallowed ground in the cemetery."
"Nobody thinks that!" Mirabella shouted.
Gwen tilted her head to one side, frowning at Bella as if she were sprouting horns. "Honey, of course they think that! Who else are they gonna suspect? I'm the only Witch in town, so far as most people know. Everyone else is pretty much in the broom closet. To the locals, it's the natural conclusion."
The chimes over the door jangled, and both women turned around to see Billy Cantone, a man they'd both gone to high school with, coming toward them. He was wearing his uniform, star pinned to his chest, right over his heart. And he wasn't smiling.
"Well, hello Billy," Gwen said. "Dare I hope you're looking for a love potion or a good luck charm?"
He pursed his lips. "Fraid not. Gwen. This is official business.'' He nodded at Mirabella. "Surprised to see you here, Bella."
"Shoot, Bella and I are old friends, Billy. We see each other quite often," Gwen said before Bella could say a word. Then she turned to Bella again. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of help to you. I know as a teacher you're as concerned as I am about this rash of nastiness hitting our town, but I really don't have a clue who's behind it."
She was giving her an out. Letting her keep her "cover" intact. Mirabella lowered her head and muttered her good-byes. When what she wanted to do was look Billy in the eye and tell him the truth.
"You'd better go. Bella." Gwen said, glancing at her watch. "You hang around here any longer you may just lose your job." Then she tapped the watch. "You know how Sally Hayes hates her teachers showing up late."
"Yeah, well, she might forgive me if I tell her I was at her husband's favorite fishing hole. But you're right." She got the message loud and clear. She risked her job every time she came into this shop and would lose it for sure if she spoke her mind to Billy. Still, she was ashamed of herself as she turned and walked away.
But as it turned out, she didn't get all that far.
Rowan was deep in thought as she walked to school, and she shut the world out in her usual way—with her iPod blasting and her earbuds firmly in place. Her body was changing. Her mind was changing. And things were...happening to her that she didn't understand. Her father didn't want to talk about it. Seemed almost afraid of it. But Rowan knew somehow, way down deep, that her mother would have understood. That she had gone through these very same things. That she'd had...something extra.
Just like Rowan had.
Reaching into her jacket pocket, Rowan fingered the small woven pouch she'd found tucked away in the attic with her mother's things. The things inside it meant something. She just didn't know what.
She heaved a sigh as she turned to cross West Main in the usual place, walking on autopilot, because she knew the way by heart. She'd been walking it for a long time now. As she crossed, she glanced at the shop across the street. Gwenyth's Chamber. She'd been in there a few times, even picked up a couple of books. But when she'd worked up the courage to ask the owner a few, tentative questions, the little blond had given her a sad smile and told her to come back when she was eighteen.
How was she supposed to understand what was happening to her if no one would even discuss it?
As she watched, Officer Cantone walked into the shop, and a second later, a woman walked out. Rowan frowned and looked closer. That was Miss Saint A, her homeroom teacher! Coming out of that kind of a shop? But...did that mean that she....
Before she could complete the thought, Miss Saint A looked right at her, shouted something, and raced toward her. Startled. Rowan yanked off her headphones and glanced to her left. At first, she saw nothing, but in a split second, a truck careened around the sharp curve and was bearing down on her. And for just an instant, she was frozen in panic.
Then Miss Saint A's body crashed into hers, and the impact hurled her out of the way. The two of them hit the pavement together in one big tangle. The landing hurt like hell-and Rowan had landed on top!
Bella wasn't sure what happened. She came out of Gwen's shop and looked up to see a woman.
And then she froze, because it was the same women she'd glimpsed in her bathroom mirror this morning!
The woman lifted a hand and pointed.
"Who are you? What the hell do you want with me?"
But the woman shook her head harshly and jabbed her finger again and again toward the road. Bella turned to look, she saw the girl in the road, and in a flash, she knew the truck, was coming. Before she saw it, before she heard it, she knew it. She shouted a warning and ran.
The truck came thundering then, and the girl seemed frozen in fear. Bella's body crashed into hers, and her momentum carried them both to the roadside, to the pavement, hitting hard. The girl's breath burst from her lungs with an "unh!" when they landed.
Tires squealed and Bella smelled burning rubber even before she turned to see the smoke rolling off the wheels as the truck came to a stop a block down, cockeyed in the road.
She got to her feet, helping the girl up as well. For the first time, she realized it was one of her own students. Rowan Hawthorne.
Often introspective and always questioning authority. Bella liked her. She brushed the dust from the girl's leather jacket and looked her up and down. "Are you all right, Rowan?"
Rowan nodded, looking dazedly at the truck, then back at Bella again. "That jerk almost killed me," she said, straightening her skirt with an angry tug. Then she glanced at Bella more closely, her eyes narrowing. "Your lip is bleeding, Miss Saint A. Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." She touched her lip, drew her fingers away, and looked at the blood.
But Rowan's eyes were even narrower now. "God, look at your head."
Bella touched the spot where her head hurt, sucked in a breath, and drew her fingers away. A lump seemed to be forming already, and it hurt like hell. People were coming toward them now from the shops on either side of the street.
"I didn't see that truck," Rowan said. "You yelled, and then he was just there. How did you know?"
"My God, my God, Rowan! Are you two all right?" The deep, male voice was accompanied by pounding footfalls as a man raced toward them.
Even as Rowan called, "I'm fine, Dad." Mirabella turned to look his way. And the moment she saw his face, her blood rushed to her feet so fast she felt dizzy. Her vision swam, and she pressed a hand to her forehead automatically and closed her eyes.
He was beside them in a heartbeat, grabbing hold of her shoulders. "Hold on. Easy now. I've got you."
Gentle hands eased her down onto the sidewalk. Tender fingers pushed her hair aside. "Ah, you've got a nasty bump here. Maybe a slight concussion."
"I'm sure it's nothing like that." She opened her eyes again, hoping with everything in her that it had been a trick or a hallucination-that he would look totally different now.
But her wish was not granted. He was hunkering near her, his hands on her face, his eyes filled with concern and questions, not hate and rage. But he was the same. Dark hair, dark eyes. A face as hard and square as if it were a bust caned in marble.
The man from her dream. And that meant the girl whose death Mirabella had somehow caused-had to be Rowan.
Bella looked at her. Young and stunningly beautiful, sitting beside her looking worried. Suicide. God, no. The very thought made Bella's eyes fill with tears.
"She saved my life, Dad. Did you see it?"
"I saw," he said, and he frowned just a little at his daughter and reached out to pick up the fallen headphones. "Maybe these ought to come off when you're crossing streets, hmm?"
She shrugged sheepishly, and he smiled, then pulled her close for a gentle hug. "Are you sure you're okay, hon? God, if anything ever happened to you, I think I'd lose my mind."
"Dad, you're so melodramatic." Rowan said, but she hugged him back.
When he released her, he turned to Bella again. "Let me take you to the clinic, have that bump looked at."
Several of Bella's colleagues were gathered around them now, and Gwen and Officer Billy Cantone were coming toward them. Almost all the teachers who lived in town walked this route to school. Often they would meet in Granny Kate's Coffee Shop, a few doors away from Gwen's place, for a fresh baked doughnut and a hot mug of brew before heading to work. No one in town was quite as well loved as Granny Kate.
"I'm fine, really," Bella said. She sought Gwen's eyes and repeated it. "Just a close call. I'm really okay." Gwen nodded, licking her lips and backing off. Bella knew she was trying to protect her. With so many colleagues around, she didn't want to publicize their friendship. Officer Billy was already heading away to talk to the truck driver.
Bella started to get up to prove she was okay, only to have the man clasp her shoulders in his big hands and help her to her feet. "That bump doesn't look like something to be ignored," he said. His voice did things to her. She felt its reverberations echoing in her belly and in her throat.
"I really have to get to school." Did she sound a little breathless? He was standing too close, and his hands were still on her shoulders, and his eyes were all over her.
"School?" His brows rose, thick dark arches. "You're one of Rowan's teachers, aren't you?"
She nodded. "Mirabella Saint Angeline, Freshman English." she said.
"It's Miss Saint A, Dad. I've told you about her before." Rowan looked curiously from one of them to the other.
He nodded, not taking his eyes off Mirabella. "Odd, I was just thinking of you this morning." And when she only frowned at him in confusion, he said. "I'm Jonathon," he said, "Jonathon Hawthorne. Rowan's father."
That much, she'd gathered on her own.
"I really think you ought to let Dad take you to that clinic, Miss Saint A." Rowan said. "You don't look too good. And I feel guilty enough already."
"You shouldn't feel guilty at all, Rowan."
"I won't-once I know for sure you didn't give yourself brain damage knocking me out from in front of that truck."
Mirabella lowered her head. Tough to argue with that.
Someone reached out to hand Mirabella her soft-sided briefcase. Bella followed the hand up the arm to see who was attached to the other end. Sally Hayes, the high school principal. Salt and pepper hair and a designer suit. No mistake. Bella lifted her brows. "What are you doing here, Sally?"
