Every Witch Way But Dead Read online

  “Okay. Big Jon, you got it under control?” Vinny asked.

  “Yeah Vin, thanks. I got it.” Jon smiled, looking cautiously at the detective.

  Vinny said his good-byes and upon leaving whispered something to Ivy which made her laugh and blush like a young maiden.

  “Ouida, what happened? I don’t remember much. One minute I was watching the fireworks and the next I was on the beach—being raped,” I murmured, so my husband wouldn’t hear.

  “Can I take her home, Detective?” Ouida asked as Bennette meandered through the room, questioning guests along the way.

  “I suppose, you’re only down the block if I need you. I’d like the names of everyone you invited. But I can get that tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll be by if we find her.”

  “Yes, please do,” I said.

  * * *

  My friends escorted me home. Jon gathered the kids and brought them along a little later. My mom, bless her heart, had put all the leftover food away in plastic containers, leaving only the bags of assorted chips on the counters.

  I grabbed the pretzel bag. “Is it normal? I’m starving.”

  Ouida handed me some saltines from my cupboard. “Perfectly. Besides, you evacuated your stomach.”

  “How antiseptic. Now will you please tell me what the hell happened?” I pleaded.

  “Let’s go out back.” Ouida led me through the french doors out to the scattered lounge chairs.

  Ouida sat next to me. “It seems as if Sally’s spirit made contact with you and tried to get you to see what was happening to her. When a soul knows—and believe me, they know when it’s near the end—they can reach out to someone who’s open and intuitive, like you. Especially when it’s under such violent circumstances.”

  “Do you think Jon knows what happened?” I nervously asked.

  Ouida’s eyes were downcast. She looked at me, taking my hands in hers.

  “Yes, I believe so. You were crying and saying, don’t hurt me. You were squirmin’, as if your were trying to push someone’s arms away from your sacred place.”

  “I feel sore, Oui, as if I were raped.”

  “Your body will carry the memory as if it were you, sister. That’s why you were bleeding, too. I suppose Sally hit her head hard by someone or somethin’,” she informed me. Ouida pushed my hair back and rubbed my shoulders in an effort to calm me.

  She took in a deep breath before speaking. “It’s very hard to explain, pen nue, physically you weren’t raped, but your etheric body is tied to the experience. So, in essence, your soul was raped.”

  Marc and his wife were quietly stargazing and watching the remainder of the fireworks presentation across the water. The flashes of colors in the sky brought the memory rushing back and I felt queasy all over again. “Oui—I’ve been having the strangest experiences. Is this like…have sex with your husband and view a past life for no extra charge? The visions are also showing me little vignettes of some sort of ritual. It’s…sexual.”

  “What d’you mean, child?” She continued stroking my hair.

  “Whoever is raising the power is using sex to do it and somehow I’m getting pulled into it. I think it’s karmic, like Marisa said. I’ve been getting flashes of a past life, too,” I admitted, feeling very embarrassed. “I need some ginger ale. I feel sick again.”

  Marc and Ronnie headed back to the kitchen. “I’ll get it,” Ronnie volunteered.

  Ouida continued. “Perhaps that’s whose name you were calling out. You should have Ivy do a regression for you. If Ivy can’t regress you, I’ll do it. This is all new to you and we’re going to have to get you to be able to control these episodes. You’ve added a new dimension to your abilities. You’re going to have to keep yourself grounded, Angie, at all times, whether you’re doing psychic work or not. You’re a channel and must protect yourself. I warned you this might happen after Marisa did the master Reiki attunement.” I nodded in agreement. “You’ve got a natural proclivity toward channeling, Marisa’s strength is healing. I’m a teacher.”

  “What do you think the sexual aspect is all about?” I asked.

  “Is it an actual ritual you’re seeing?”

  “There are two people, usually, and I hear some words of a chant but I can’t remember what they are. It looks like the Great Rite—then I’m left with the residual sexual feelings of arousal,” I whispered, feeling a sudden chill in the air.

  “What do you mean usually?”

  “Other times it’s just the feelings and candlelight,” I confessed. “And yet others are intermingled with images from another time. I must be connected somehow to this man.”

  Ouida put her sweater around my shoulders. “Keep yourself grounded always. You’re going to have to batten down the hatches on holidays and protect yourself with your amulets. You’re also going to have to watch the drinking,” Ouida said. “I’ll have to consult the loa, to be sure.”

  I stared at the starry sky. “The other night, when my truck was keyed I went to the park afterwards to clear my head. There were two people there performing what looked like the Great Rite.”

  Ouida nodded. “At Wedding Cake Rock?”

  It was aptly named for its shape of a two tier cake. “Yes, and there’s more…”

  Ronnie walked over and handed me a glass of ginger ale with ice chips. When our hands touched, an arc of electricity jolted between us and I knew somehow she was involved in tonight’s horror. I looked deeply into her compassionate green eyes, avoiding the psychic pull. I didn’t want another go-round. I saw nothing. Only fear. She went back to her husband.

  I continued. “Oui, the man at the park wanted me to watch them. I heard him telepathically telling me to stay, and I couldn’t move. I-I finally was able to get back inside the truck and…it was so strange. I astral-projected into the female’s body and—I felt everything she did. Only I didn’t consciously do it. It just… happened.”

  Ouida stared. I knew that look; it was one of extreme concern. “The person involved in working this type of magick is tuned into you, or you are somehow connected to him,” she warned me. “If it’s karmic, you must be very careful, sister. You cannot let the feelings from another life influence you now. That could be a deadly mistake. Come on inside, you’re getting cold.”

  Ivy puttered around the kitchen, cleaning up, making tea, sweeping the floor and feeding the felines. I could tell she was concerned; her brows knit together like a fine cashmere sweater. “I checked on Cody, he’s sleeping. Those pills worked great. Angie, do you mind if I spend the night?” my worried friend inquired.

  “Thanks, I gave him the sedative the vet gave me. I think I should have split it with him.” That was my feeble attempt at humor. “Of course I don’t mind, there’s the pull-out in the den, you’re more than welcome to crash there, you know that. I think the older boys are out for the night, but I can’t be sure. Otherwise you could use one of their rooms.” I sat on a cushioned stool, still feeling the after-effect of traveling into the netherworld.

  “The couch is fine.” She smiled.

  Marc and Ronnie came over to where I sat with Ivy. Ronnie said, “We’re going to head on home. Are you going to be all right here now? Do you need anything?”

  “I think she’s safe for now,” Ivy stepped in.

  Marc nodded. “Call us if you need anything or hear anything about Sally.”

  “Take care of her, be careful, Sympatia,” I said, but the words were not my own.

  It occurred to me then that I’d been living between two worlds and other lives.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Unakite ~ This stone can assist us to live in the present instead of dwelling in the past. It is said to help us let go of the mental or emotional blocks to discover the root causes of mental, physical, emotional and spiritual problems before they can become a danger to our well-being. By helping us see the fundamental causes of such problems, we are better able to take remedial action. ~ From Angelica Kane’s workshop on Gemstones.

&nb
sp; The call came at five o‘clock, along with the dawn.

  They had found Sally’s body in the dunes by the abandoned hot dog stand, just like I said. The detective would be by in the morning for more questioning.

  Jon was pouring two steaming cups of vanilla cappuccino for Ivy and me when the doorbell chimed. I pulled my terry cloth robe tighter, as if that unpretentious act would somehow protect me from what was on the other side of the door. Bad news. Ivy sat next to me in a pair of my pajamas, her arm around me protectively.

  “Morning,” the detective said, always observing.

  “I’m going to get changed, I’ll be right back,” Ivy said as she made her way out of the kitchen.

  I was certain Detective Bennette’s soulful eyes had seen too much of humanity’s abhorrent behavior. He had his notepad out and was poised, ready to jot down any useful information.

  “Coffee, Detective?” Jon asked.

  “Thanks, if you don’t mind. It’s been an extremely long night. Mrs. Kane, I’ve got a few questions I was wondering if you could help me with. Would you explain what transpired last night? We really didn’t get a chance to go over much. Are you feeling better by the way, I hope?”

  “Yes, I am, thank you. And here’s a list of all the people we invited.” I took a deep breath and jumped right in. I knew this wasn’t going to be an easy pill for him to swallow. Most people have a difficult time with the concept of visions and premonitions. By the look on Sean Bennette’s face, I could safely say this was a first. Ivy joined us and put on the kettle for tea.

  “So what you’re telling me is—that you saw these events in your mind?” he asked incredulously.

  “Actually it was more like I was seeing it through Sally’s eyes, not mine,” I corrected him.

  He took in a deep breath and slowly let it out, shaking his head as if that would force the pieces of this story into a puzzle that fit. He rubbed at his slightly graying temples. “And you are the same Angelica Kane who helped find the little boy last year? The child from Rivers End? A Joey Carbone, Jr.?”

  Jon placed the mug of coffee in front of the detective, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “My friend, Marisa, and I found him, yes.” I nudged the mug closer to him.

  “The same way?” He smiled and took a sip of the vanilla brew.

  This wasn’t going to be easy. “Nooo… I, uh…that was different. I meditated that time and saw the location, then my friend scryed and—” I was beginning to ramble. “Marisa…”

  The detective interrupted. “Wait—you meditated and she scryed?” he asked, clearly lost in my metaphysical lingo.

  I nodded, seeing this was extremely difficult for the detective to come to terms with. He appeared to be a believe-it-when-you-see-it kind of guy. I guess I couldn’t fault him. In his profession, he’d have to be.

  “Detective Bennette,” Ivy said kindly, “it’s much easier to think of it as a dream, only Angie is awake. She sees images, like you would see in a dream state.”

  That seemed to help him wrap his mind around the concept, somewhat. “And scrying is?”

  I took over the explanation. “That’s done with a pendulum and a map. Marisa holds it and concentrates on the person or object she’s looking for. It spins and hopefully lands on the location of the article or person.”

  “Is that how you knew where to look for Ms. Shaw?” he asked as he rubbed at the stubble peeking through his bronzed skin.

  I never knew Sally’s last name. “No. I told you—I saw the events as they were happening to her and I saw the shack in the dunes.”

  “Okay…” I could hear the frustration in his voice. “You have witnesses that place you in your friend’s backyard at the approximate time of the crime?”

  Jon was getting angry. I could feel it. “What is that suppose to mean? You think my wife had something to do with this?” He got up from his seat and paced the length of the kitchen.

  “Mr. Kane, I have to ask these questions, it’s procedure, anything is possible. I have to follow all avenues.” He paused and looked over at me. “But—no, I don’t think she has anything to do with the crime. You must appreciate how difficult it is for me to understand how your wife can know certain things. You were with your wife, I assume?” he asked, ala Columbo.

  “Yes, I was. Along with our friends,” Jon huffed, sitting back down and running his hand through his hair.

  “And you say you’ve never met this woman, Sally Shaw?” he probed politely, sipping his coffee in between taking notes.

  “No, I never met her,” Jon insisted.

  “But she was at your home a few weeks ago. Wasn’t she, Mrs. Kane?” the officer asked. One eyebrow arched cynically.

  I did not like the direction he was heading.

  “Deep breaths,” Ivy whispered.

  “Yes, she was. My husband was upstairs, in the shower and getting ready to go out. We went to the concert that night.” I got up and poured myself some cranberry juice. “You remember the concert,” I said sarcastically.

  It didn’t phase him in the least. “Yes, the concert you attended with the Arruccis.” He flipped through his note pad, searching for information. “Marc and Veronica Arthur performed, at ahhh—Ocean Park Theater. They were here as well last night, correct?”

  “Yes, they were.” I was suddenly hungry. “Detective, are you hungry? I’m going to make some eggs.”

  “I’m sorry. No, thank you, I’ll be done soon. At that concert, the young backup singer had been electrocuted?” He found what he’d been searching for in his notepad.

  “That’s the one,” I answered, taking out eggs, butter and cheese.

  “They’re friends of yours?” He watched me carefully. Never took his eyes off me for more than a few moments. I felt uneasy and pulled the sash of my robe tighter around my waist.

  “The Arthurs? Yes. I thought we covered this before.” I sighed, cracking open a half dozen eggs into a bowl.

  “Yes, we did. Hmm…so, anyway, it’s possible that your husband ran into her—Ms. Shaw—here. You may’ve been in the kitchen when she walked in and she might’ve seen him? Met him then?” He walked over to me and looked directly into my eyes. Jon stood and was ready to intercept him.

  “What’re you getting at? You think my husband is involved? No, it’s not possible,” I explained, angrily whipping the eggs. “My girlfriend answered the door and brought her directly into the kitchen. This is where we stayed. We had a glass of wine and we talked. You should be looking for her ex-boyfriend, she has a restraining order against him. He abused her. Beat her. She had a fat lip thanks to him. She’s got a few boyfriends. It could be anyone out there that might have done this. You of all people know how twisted people’s minds can be. Somebody keyed her car and slashed her tires, too.” I took out the skillet and turned on the heat while seasoning the eggs. I had to do something. I was extremely nervous around the attractive officer. He had the ability, so I thought, to easily twist my words into something foreign.

  “I know, we’re looking for him and any other men she may’ve been involved with.” He looked at me and smiled. “If you add a little water to the eggs, they’ll come out fluffier.”

  I shook my head, getting as frustrated now as the detective must be, but I had to laugh. Now he was giving me cooking advice. “I prefer milk.”

  “Mrs. Arrucci told us about that, the abuse,” he admitted, sidestepping Jon as he came to help with breakfast by adding butter to the hot skillet.

  “Did she tell you how he threatened to hurt himself with a knife? How he tried to manipulate Sally?” I asked, getting more agitated by the minute. I was about to lose my cool. Apparently sensing my discomfort Ivy got up and took over the cooking.

  “Yes, she did, Mrs. Kane.” The detective held out his hand to Jon. “I’m sorry, it’s all part of the job.”

  Jon took his hand reluctantly and shook it.

  “Mrs. Kane, I’ll be in touch.”

  I took his hand and, without warning, hideous i
mages assaulted my mind’s eye. A mélange of crimes he’d seen in his years as a police officer and detective flashed before me.

  Body parts, severed limbs, tortured men and women. Defenseless children raped, murdered and beaten. Gun shot wounds, stabbings, suicides, people lit on fire, car crashes, hospitals, morgues, all pounded my senses.

  A woman. Young, beautiful and brunette in a mangled car wreck. A drunk, a wedding band, another that matched on Sean Bennette’s hand. The name Rita. The number ten, fireworks and flowers. A crib.

  “Rita—she was your wife—she was killed in a car accident, it was your anniversary, she was on her way to meet you…for dinner…when a drunk driver went through a red light. It would’ve been your ten year anniversary—yesterday—she was going to tell you she was pregnant. Oh-My-Great-Goddess!” The words just flew from my lips. He pulled his hand away from mine as if it were too hot to the touch. His mouth opened in shock.

  “I’m so sorry. I had no idea!” I hastily apologized. “Please forgive me, Detective.”

  He grabbed a kitchen chair and sat down, grabbing his chest like I’d kicked him full force. His eyes questioned me, but his words were lost somewhere else.

  “I told you, I see things,” I softly said. “Are you okay?”

  Finally he spoke, after Jon brought him a glass of water. His voice was barely a hint above a whisper. “No one—and I mean—no one, knew she was pregnant. I found the test at home, in the bathroom. The plus sign was still visible. That was five years ago. I hadn’t told anyone that.” We sat in silence for a few moments. He hung his head, lost in thoughts of the past, no doubt.

  “That’s unbelievable.” He regained his composure and stood, shaking his head once again. “Uh, I’ll be in touch. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

  “I apologize again, Detective,” I called out to him as he made his exit. We ate our breakfast in silence.

  * * *

  It was later in the day when the television crews descended. Like a summer storm, volatile and unpredictable, they quickly spread over the landscape. The only positive thing to come out of my television experience was publicity for the shop. Business was booming.