Running witch, p.3
Running Witch, page 3
“Excuse me?” a startled woman said, almost dropping the latest Gabino Iglesias novel.
“Just talking to myself. I do that sometimes. Can I help you find anything else?”
Rhiannon sneezed, then set about washing herself for the umpteenth time, leaving black hairs on the window display. If she didn’t bring in customers…
Oh, who am I kidding. I love that dang cat, and that’s what handheld vacuum devices are for, right?
“I think I’m good,” the woman replied. “Just finished the one book I brought on our trip and needed a fix.”
“Well, you picked a good one! I don’t read horror, but I’ve heard nothing but good things about his writing.” I crutched to the cash point, rang her up, and sent her on her way.
Duncan swanned in, bleached-blond head down, checking something on his phone. Today’s T-shirt was an old Where the Wild Things Are classic, with monsters swinging from trees.
“Hey boss,” he said, looking up. Then his eyes widened behind his heavy, black-framed retro glasses. “What happened to you? It was jogging, wasn’t it? I always say that stuff will kill you.”
I laughed. “Not everyone is cut out to be a total couch potato, Duncan. And it was a Frisbee accident.”
Just then, Board Wax barked in the kitchenette.
Duncan’s head snapped toward the back.
“Sarah? Is there a d-o-g here?”
He glanced uneasily at Rhiannon, now glaring from the front window display. She hopped down and bumped his jeans-clad shins. He bent to pay proper tribute.
“There is a d-o-g, and the c-a-t already saw him, so, no need to spell.”
::There is a dog. And it is a terrible, large, slobbering beast!:: she yowled.
“Huh. Guess Rhiannon isn’t too happy about it, are you girl? Wonder what you’d be saying if you spoke English.”
I just smiled, noncommittally. “If you’re good here, I’m going to go check on the teens.”
“Sure thing.” He was already fiddling with the computer, looking at online orders
I headed back to the kitchenette, with my step thump, step thump gait announcing my arrival to all and sundry, armpits complaining. I hadn’t even been on crutches for a full day and I was already whining.
I really needed to get over myself, didn’t I?
::You do.:: Rhiannon mind-thought.
::Hey, stay out of my head!:: I shouted back.
::Hmph,:: she replied, but then fell thankfully silent.
Well, that was new. Could Rhiannon really read my mind all the time? I clearly needed to tighten up my psychic wards and protections.
Propping myself on one crutch, I leaned forward to open the kitchenette door, pretty proud of myself at not overbalancing.
As soon as the door opened, though, I realized my mistake.
Board Wax’s cheerful yellow head slammed directly into my crotch, almost toppling me backwards. I braced myself against the door jamb, swaying dangerously as the dog continued his joyous assault.
“Board Wax! No!” Tracy shouted, and grabbed his collar.
Tabitha turned from where she was making tea.
“Hey boss, you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I sighed. “But I have no idea what we’re going to do about this dog.”
Board Wax wagged his fluffy golden tail and slurped noisily at a plastic bowl of water the teens had sat down for him.
“I asked my mom if we could take him for a few days,” Tracy said.
“And?”
“She said it would be okay if I agreed to take care of him, you know, walk him, and feed him, and stuff.”
“And pick up his poop,” Tabitha said with a cackle, dark bob swaying around her slender shoulders.
Tracy just rolled her eyes.
“Is the tea almost ready?” I asked. I hadn’t finished my cup at Angie’s.
“Sure is,” Tabitha replied, getting everything onto the tea tray.
“All right. Let’s go talk about this before the store gets too busy.”
Though in summer, that could be five minutes from now. But I’d take whatever time sitting down I could. I crutched my way over to the comfortable striped chairs set beneath a stained glass window showing a stack of books with brightly colored spines.
A low table sat between the chairs, used by customers for the stacks of books they were perusing as they tried to figure out what to buy.
I know some bookstores think letting people sit and read is bad for business, but I’ve found the opposite is true. If people read for ten minutes, getting hooked on an interesting slice of history, or the latest summer read, they’re more likely to buy. My dad taught me that.
Tracy and Tabitha came back out, thankfully leaving Board Wax shut in the kitchenette.
Tabitha set the tea tray down on the table and Tracy grabbed another chair.
“So,” Tracy said, tying her long blond hair back in a ponytail. “I can take Board Wax home, but that still doesn’t help us figure out what to do with him long term.”
“Or how to figure out what happened to his human,” Tabitha said.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose where it met my forehead and the dull ache starting there.
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” I said. “I mean, all we have is the guy’s first name and his dog… Oh wait. Did you check the collar? Does Board Wax have a tag with a phone number on it?
“Brilliant!”
Tracy raced back to the kitchen as Tabitha leaned forward to pour the tea, adding a splash of oat milk to mine, and half a spoonful of sugar to her own.
I settled back with the warm cup in hand, grateful for my life. Then my ankle throbbed, reminding me that I needed to prop it up again.
“Tabitha, can you get me…?” I gestured toward my lower leg.
“Oh, sure, boss. Coming right up.”
This was a new thing, all of them calling me boss. I knew it was affectionate, but I wasn’t sure I liked it. It reminded me too much of the fact that my dad was no longer with me. Mom either, though she had died enough years ago that I was used to it. But dad stuff? That still really hit me sometimes.
“There was a phone number,” Tracy said, coming back just as Tabitha returned with a one of the low chairs from the children’s section and an extra pillow. I got my ankle propped, and everyone sat down.
Tracy punched numbers into her phone and held it to her ear. I drank my tea and waited.
Tabitha looked kind of distant. Far away. I wondered if everything was okay with her. We had only found out recently that her parents were vampires, and I wondered if that was causing her trouble.
“Nothing,” Tracy said. “They’re not picking up.”
“Just text them,” said Tabitha. “Tell them we have their dog.”
Tracy rolled her eyes at her friend.
“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”
“Just saying.” Tabitha grinned and sipped her tea.
The front bells clattered. We all looked up. Waiting.
“Hi, Duncan.” That was Delta Crabbit’s voice.
“Tracy, could you…?’
“On it.” She scurried off to find another chair. With as often as we used this nook as a meeting spot, I might need to rethink the furniture situation.
Delta looked harried, gray hair sticking out all over as if she’d combed it with an egg beater. The tip of Preston’s purple cap poked up from the tote bag.
Tracy was back with the chair.
“I’ll get another cup,” she said.
“Two cups, please!” Preston called out.
Delta sat with a huff and carefully set the tote down on the ground. The gnome popped out and adjusted his purple cap with his fat little fingers.
“Finally,” he said. “I feel as if I’ve been in that bag all day. You keep dragging me hither and yon…”
“Oh, quiet, gnome. At least you get carried. I’m the one doing all the walking.”
I smothered a grin with my tea mug. The longer they were friends, the more Delta and Preston seemed like an old married couple.
“Any news?” I asked.
Tracy carefully filled the human-sized and gnome-sized mugs and handed them out.
Delta raked a hand through her hair and blew on her tea before taking a hefty gulp and settling back in the chair. Story time.
“Preston and I went exploring. We walked up and down Main Street and then went to the beach where you said you took your fall, and…”
She set her mug down and leaned over to rummage through the tote bag, emerging with a battered orange cloth sneaker.
“We found this. Do you recognize it?”
I peered at the shoe, a well-worn canvas sneaker in a faded orange. It was the type my dad used to call tennies. I racked my memory.
“I think that was what Carlson was wearing. But I can’t be sure. I was a little preoccupied with my ankle.” And with how the heck I was going to get off that beach, an ordeal I would rather not relive, quite frankly
“How are you at psychometry?” Delta asked. “I was never much good at it.”
“Psychometry?” Tabitha said. “That’s excellent. We haven’t learned about that yet.”
Both girls took out their phones, ready to take notes.
I waved my hands.
“We are not doing the lesson in psychometry right now.” I turned to Delta. “I’m okay at psychometry, but Cyrus is even better.”
And where the heck had he gone, anyway? Drat that warlock.
“Ooh, ooh!” Tracy bounced in her chair, tea sloshing perilously. “Can we do it tonight at your house?”
I looked at her expectant face shining with excitement. I swear, I’m only in my late twenties, but sometimes teenagers make me feel old.
“I guess so,” I said.
I mean, why not? Stefon was busy running his game, my ex-girlfriend turned best friend, Cecilia, was busy with Toby, and my plans for the evening? They were watching Charmed reruns from the comfort of my couch while eating my weight in caramel ice cream.
Tracy looked at her phone, then at Tabitha.
“My mom’s here to pick up Board Wax. You coming?”
“Wait, neither of you are working today?” I asked.
“Well, we can’t exactly leave the dog locked in the kitchen….”
“I’ll stay, Sarah,” Tabitha said, then glanced back at her friend. “Can you maybe come pick me up for dinner?”
Tracy nodded. “Sure. I’ll text you later. Can you help me get Board Wax?”
The teens loped off through the bookcases, and Delta frowned.
“I hope this abandoned shoe doesn’t portend something bad.”
I did, too.
But it felt doubtful.
6
Tabitha, Tracy, and Tracy’s mother, Carol,—another blond—crowded on the sofa in the cozy cottage I call home. It started out as my parents’ place, becoming Dad’s after my mom’s death. And then…when Dad’s own health was failing, it became mine. Someday I would get around to redecorating, but for now, the old, well-worn furniture did the trick.
Uncle Cyrus and I sat in the chairs opposite the couch, fireplace behind us and the coffee table in the center. My feet were propped on a leather ottoman, and I’d changed into comfy sweatpants and had a glass of soda water close to hand.
Cyrus, dressed in his somehow-still-crisp linen sat, legs crossed, hands relaxed on the arms of the chair. He stared at the battered coffee table with distaste. Well, not at the coffee table, exactly, but at the battered orange sneaker sitting smack dab in the center of it. At least the teens had put down a washable placemat underneath it. Who knows where the shoe had been?
“So,” Tracy said, ever eager to learn. “You’re going to teach us psychometry?”
Uncle Cyrus tapped his long, elegant fingers on the chair arms and then dragged his gaze away from the offending shoe, coming to rest on Tracy’s bright, open face.
“Psychometry. Yes. Psychometry, simply put, is gathering psychic information from an object.”
“So how does it work?” Tabitha asked, leaning forward. Tabitha always wanted to get down to the basics of how things worked. A Wiccan by religion, the young Goth should have just been along for the ride. But if you ask me, she was a better student than hereditary witch Tracy.
It made me wonder if a regular human could grow into some of our powers. Oh, I mean, I know plenty of Wiccans who pack quite a psychic punch, and psychometry was certainly something Tabitha could learn…. But elemental magic the way witches did it? I didn’t think so.
Uncle Cyrus snapped his fingers in front of my face.
“What?” I asked.
“You were wandering,” he said. “Are you certain you’re up for this?”
“I’m fine,” I groused, then adjusted my foot on the ottoman. My ankle still hurt like heck but I didn’t need to let Cyrus know that.
“So how does it work?” Tracy asked.
“Like any other psychic skill,” Cyrus said. “Just the way your mother taught you.”
And the way Cyrus and I had been helping Tracy refine.
“You center yourself,” he continued. “Slow down your breathing and then slowly open up your psychic centers to whatever it is you are touching or holding in your hands.”
“So, you can teach us, right?” Tracy asked.
“We shall see.”
“Oh, come on, Cyrus, loosen up,” I said. “Yes, we can teach you.”
Now it was Carol’s turn to lean toward the two teens.
“Some people are more naturally inclined toward that skill, but that doesn’t mean that with practice, you can’t develop it.”
“Carol is right. All the psychic skills are teachable.” I turned back to my uncle. “Cyrus, I think the best thing to do is just show them first. We can go over the fundamentals later.”
In other words, get the show on the road, warlock. He gave me a small frown, which told me he picked up on my energy if not my words. I ignored the look and took a drink of my bubbly water.
Just as Cyrus reached forward for the shoe, a barking started up from my backyard, where Board Wax was on a grassy patch, tethered to my small back porch.
“That dog.” Carol sighed. “I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.”
“I’ll check on him!” Tracy said, bouncing up. “Don’t start without me!”
“I’m sorry you have to deal with that animal again,” Carol said to me. “I mean, he’s good-tempered, but a bit of a lummox. Is your ankle going to be all right?”
I shrugged. “It should be. But I’m going to miss the Wag a Lot run.”
Uncle Cyrus practically shuddered, but blessedly didn’t comment this time, which was good, because his opinions on running were annoying, and because there was a sudden clatter of toenails on the kitchen floor.
Board Wax’s grinning face appeared, followed by that golden frond of a tail, swinging wildly toward my father’s mementos. Tracy was doing her best to get him to heel, but it looked like a lost cause.
Luckily, she steered the lummox away from my chair before I got a wet nose in my crotch again.
“Now you have to be good,” Tracy said. “Sit.”
Board Wax sat next to the end of the couch and thunked his big head on the arm, begging for pets. Tracy obliged.
“Are we quite through?” Cyrus asked.
I dragged my attention back to the task at hand, and spoke.
“Let’s all center.” I certainly needed to. “Feet flat on the floor unless you’re me. Palms up and open. Spine floating from your pelvis… Now slow your breathing down. Drop into the stillness that is your center.”
The energy in the room shifted as every witch, Wiccan, and warlock followed my instructions.
Starting a centering meditation is like ringing Pavlov’s bell. You start the breathing countdown or say the words “find your center” and every witch within a mile snaps to.
“Feel the energy bodies that rest around your physical form, and send a breath outward, filling your aura. Ask any guides you have to be present.” The room grew a little more crowded as people’s ancestor helpers or spirit guides showed up. I could feel the strange energies tingling along my skin.
“Soften your gaze…and open to the orange sneaker.”
Uncle Cyrus picked it up, gently cradling the shoe in both of his hands.
His breathing deepened, and I swore I could feel his energy fields vibrate as he tuned in to the ugly shoe.
“Sand,” he said. “Salt water.”
Then his mouth turned down. “Dog.”
Board Wax thumped his tail, and Cyrus went quiet.
“Anything else?” Carol prompted. The blond-haired witch had her eyes fixed on the orange shoe. I could tell she was tuning in to something despite not having her hands on the object. Carol had more than a touch of clairvoyance, meaning, she Saw things. I was more clairaudient, which meant I Heard more things than I ever wanted to.
“Are you picking up on something?” I asked her.
“Unhappiness,” she said. “An unhappy man pretending to be otherwise. A man involved in secrets. Surrounded by secrets, and spouting lies.”
Carol fell silent. The teens’ eyes were wide open, soaking it all in.
Cyrus took a shuddering breath, and I could feel him open to the shoe on a deeper level.
“I see hands exchanging money,” he said. “Money and something…”
His fingertips rubbed together as if trying to feel what he was seeing.
“Something small. Something encased in plastic film.”
“Like drugs?” Tracy asked.
Carol’s eyes shot open and looked at her daughter.
“What?” Tracy said. “I watch movies.”
Tabitha smirked, but wisely kept her mouth shut.
But drugs? That was an interesting development.
Cyrus licked his lips and nodded.
“I believe so. Or something like drugs. And some people around the man are very angry. I hear buzzing sounds…” He fell silent again, and we all waited in the hush of my living room.
Buzzing. What buzzed? Tattoo parlors buzzed. Bees…what else? But I didn’t want to break Cyrus’s concentration by asking.
The only sounds were Board Wax’s panting and the thump of his tail.
