Every Witch Way But Dead Read online

  “Ronnie’s agreed to see Ivy as her therapist. Ivy’s even been making house calls, for a few weeks at least,” Heena told me over the phone from her office one late afternoon. “Nan prescribed Ronnie some medication, just to help her through this, but I don’t think she’s taken any. Marc is still worrying incessantly about her. I think he needs a sedative, too.”

  “In the conversations I’ve had with Ronnie, she’s relied on her belief system to carry her through,” I informed Heena. “The occasional sleep aid or anxiety pill, but that’s it. But this experience has taken a toll on her. Staying secluded has run her down to bare bones. She dropped too much weight for her tiny frame, she looks wraithlike,” I said. “Their concerts are postponed for now, but I think they’re rescheduling some dates.”

  I heard Heena yawn as she spoke. “I know. The debut of the new album’s postponed, too. They’re waiting for Cliff to be arrested before they release it.”

  “How are you feeling, Heena?”

  In my mind, I could see her smile. “Tired, but other than that I feel wonderful.”

  “You’re lucky, I had morning sickness all day with Jake. Amber’s still giving me agita and the silent treatment.”

  “She’s at that age. She’ll come around, you’ll see.”

  Sighing, I said, “I hope so.”

  “I’ve got to get back to seeing patients. I’ll talk with you soon.”

  I hung up with Heena and picked up the paper. When the Arthurs weren’t the target of Joel Sander’s reporting, we were. He was a persistent pain in our collective neck and now he renewed his spin on the events, linking our beliefs to the murders.

  Wiccan Band Cursed

  By Joel Sanders

  Our local band of witches, Arthur’s Graile, has been stricken with devastating losses recently. The deaths of singers, Diane Seabring and Rebecca Landsing, have put a sudden stop to their popular concert tours.

  Those close to the band remain extremely guarded about what has transpired, but others are freely speculating that it is retribution for their pagan background.

  “If you listen to their lyrics, they sing about blasphemous beliefs,” Preacher Laslow, of the Born Again Christian’s Oceanview Chapter stated in an interview recently. “It’s sad those poor girls paid with their lives. I hear one of them had confused sexual behavior as well. People don’t want to listen to the warnings. It just leads them down a path straight to hell!”

  From what my sources are telling me, it seems that the murder of Sally Shaw is somehow connected to these shocking crimes. Veronica Arthur, the lead singer of the band, had been receiving threats via the postal mail and her email. There is a warrant out for the ex-roadie of the group, Cliff Kendle, who is also the main suspect in the Sally Shaw murder. Sally was also a practicing witch.

  I will be following this and the trial that ensues very carefully.

  Joel was not an objective journalist. I knew what it was like to be the focus of the headlines in our local paper and my heart went out to the Arthurs.

  Jon was still working a lot of overtime, getting home late and falling asleep on the couch. He seemed less distant, but I still wondered if he resented me for getting involved with these murder investigations. I couldn’t imagine not getting drawn in. I was a part of them, regardless of what either of us wanted.

  The new deal he’d been mulling over this summer had him tied in knots and that was what occupied his thoughts as of late. He was drinking more and eating less. All for the multi-million dollar job… I left the decision making for that to his better judgment. Between the running of the shop and getting school supplies for my two children, I didn’t have time to think—well, maybe a little. But that was a blessing in disguise.

  With the start of the new business, we expected it to be a tough year, but nothing like it turned out. Perhaps a long weekend in Salem this October would be a good idea. For me anyway, and as long as Jon could fish, he’d be happy. However, bills had to be paid and bacon brought home, and I was the one frying it, as well.

  The first signs of autumn were in the air and in the sycamore trees, their leaves fading to yellow. Nights were getting a little cooler and the Canadian geese squawked in the distance. Labor Day snuck by, spent with my close friends at a quiet barbeque at Ouida’s home.

  The first day back at school arrived and was just as nerve-wracking for me as it was for my kids. I’m certain it had to do with some childhood trauma I suffered, buried deep in my subconscious.

  It was also an exciting day on Market Street, as talk of a new shop spread through town. Annie Pernell, a native of Pennsylvania, was bringing with her a house that was part of her family for generations. It was due to arrive in October, but they were preparing the land for it now.

  She was opening an antique shop, transforming the home into a place of business, the same as we had with our shop, only we’d started with a barn. I’d met Annie and she appeared to be a wonderful addition to our community. She was an open and friendly woman with a lovely yellowy-green aura.

  Sitting on my front porch one afternoon, I watched the last hoorahs of receding summer colors in my garden. With a glass of merlot with ripe, juicy peaches marinating in it, I relaxed. Soon I’d be occupied getting this evening’s dinner ready. Now, though, my thoughts drifted to the past few months and all that had transpired.

  I’d enjoyed working with the police and hoped that it would be something I could be involved with again. My only wish was that Jon would adjust to it by then.

  Lying across my lounge chair, I lifted my skirts to reveal my legs to the dying rays of the sun. As much as I worshipped the moon, I loved the sun. Tranquility embraced me and I closed my eyes, letting my thoughts flow like a river. I wondered about Cliff and the past life we shared and what influences that had upon the present. Mostly though, I thought about my family and the approaching holiday of Samhain.

  The sun was low in the sky, the shift of sunsets changing ever so slightly southbound. My flag for the season, a witch, of course, flying over a full harvest moon, hung from a post on the front deck. I usually waited until the Autumn Equinox, but this year I spotted a neighbor with their Halloween flag out already, so that gave me the green light. In my mind, anyway.

  This was my favorite time of year, when Mother Nature turned up the volume on the visual landscape. She painted the trees with wild colors of crimson, vivid yellows and oranges of every hue. We still had a while until our colors peaked. Late October was usually the time for us to enjoy the full effulgence of the season. Then it was a treat for the eyes.

  Roadside farms with their abundance of corn, pumpkins and apples tempted drivers to stop and buy a few. Not to mention their caramel apple pies, the mere thought of which sent my salivary glands into overdrive. The air was warm still, the temperatures in the high seventies, I was comfortable in my oversized lounge chair with its big fluffy pillows. It was a wonderfully soothing afternoon. The warm breeze felt like a hug from Mother Nature and I must have dozed off for a few minutes.

  Abruptly, signals went off inside my head and my eyes flew open. I nervously perused the front yard.

  Nothing unusual.

  Cody was romping in the back; no warning barks from him. No neighborhood children were out, at least none close by.

  Still, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prickling, electrified, as if static filled the air surrounding me. I was never prone to panic attacks, but one was coming on. The world seemed to be closing in on me. A burning in my chest radiated outward with the sensation of heat traveling from my feet to my thighs.

  Hot flashes? I was only thirty-six.

  A thudding emerged from my chest and worked its way into my head, causing it to throb. My vision was faded in and out, light to dark, as I grabbed onto the arm of the lounge chair.

  I vaguely saw an outline of a woman running down the block toward my home, her red hair bouncing around her. I dropped my glass of wine as the image of my daughter flashed on my psychic screen. The phone rang.


  “He’s back!”

  It was Marisa, bounding up my driveway, waving her pendulum.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Amber ~ With an energy like fluid sunshine, amber is the fossilized resin of pine trees. Amber is said to augment the beauty of the wearer. It is used to tap into the influence of the sun, and is good for achievement, abundance, healing, vigor and joy. A major stone for manifestation, Amber is also used for healing of the physical body. It carries a negative electrical charge and therefore is good to draw power and energy into its bearer. Jet and amber combined is one of the time-honored sacred stones of the High Priest or Priestess. This gemstone combination worn around the base of the throat is one of the traditional ritual adornments of modern Priestesses. ~ An excerpt from Angelica Kane’s article on Gemstones and Priestesses.

  “Amber!” I cried as I ran to grab the phone. “Hello?”

  “You have a very beautiful daughter. She looks a lot like you. I like the streaks of blonde she put in her hair. She’s developing into quite a beauty. How old is she? Sixteen? She looks more mature than her age. I’ve gotten to know her quite well over the summer. She did tell you about me, didn’t she?” Then the caller hung up.

  Tears poured down my face and I couldn’t breathe. The air around me went arctic cold. I began to shake violently, uncontrollably. The phone rang again. I picked it up.

  “Don’t call the police. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to your little girl.” The voice was void of human emotion. A real-life demon was on the other end. Then the line went dead.

  I grabbed the phone again and called over to Michele’s.

  “Amber left about ten minutes ago, Mrs. Kane.”

  “Michele, was Lance there?”

  “N-no, Mrs. Kane,” she stammered.

  I lost my temper. “Michele, you know better than to lie to me.”

  “Yes, he offered to give her a ride home.”

  I dropped the phone. My mind raced; I needed to calm down, but I couldn’t. I grabbed my cell phone and called Jon. It went directly to voicemail. That was odd. I called Steven, but he had no idea where his father was.

  Tears filled Marisa’s golden eyes. “Call the police. Call Sean!” she cried.

  “I can’t.” I sobbed, tears once again streamed down my face. “He threatened to hurt her if I call the police. Call Rich—see if he knows where Jon is, please, Risa.”

  Marisa took my cell phone and dialed her husband’s number. “Did Amber walk over Michele’s or take her bike?” she asked, waiting for Rich to pick up his phone.

  I began berating myself. “She walked to Michele’s right from school. I should’ve never gone back to work. Jon’s right, I should stay home. Why did I think I could do it all—I must have been out of my freakin’ mind. Now I’m paying for it, I was being so selfish!”

  Marisa gave me a hug, sending me calming energy. “Hey—don’t even go there, sister. You’re doing what we all have to do to survive here. Stop beating yourself up. Rich… Amber is in trouble. Do you know where Jon is? Angie needs him and can’t get a hold of him— Okay, if you hear from him, tell him to get his ass home, his daughter’s been kidnapped. No, I’m not kidding! Just come over to Angie’s, please! Okay, bye.” Marisa turned toward me. “Rich is on his way home.”

  The phone rang again and both of us jumped out of our skin. I was petrified to answer, dreading the monster on the other end of the line.

  “What’s going on, sister?” It was Ouida, “I feel you all the way from here. Is everything all right?”

  “No!” I wailed, losing control again.

  “I’ll be right over.”

  As soon as I hung up, it rang again.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Meet me at Greenview Park, in the back by the pond. You know the place. I felt you watching me that night. Remember, no cops—or else.”

  I was stark white as I dropped the phone. I made it to the bathroom just in time to throw up.

  Marisa was pacing. “Get me a map, I’ll find her.”

  “I know where she’ll be. I have to meet him at Greenview Park. No police, Marisa, don’t call Sean, promise me or Goddess knows what he’ll do.”

  “Oh, Great Brigit! I’m calling the coven; we’re going to work some magick here.”

  I grabbed my purse and cell phone. “Stay here, please. Jake’s upstairs, Steven will be home soon—don’t tell them anything—SHIT! Ouida’s on her way over. Why her, what do we have to do with any of this? Gods Marisa—I’ll die if—”

  “Hush! She’ll be fine, don’t even allow yourself to think anything but that she will be fine! I’ll hold off as long as I can with the kids, baby cakes, they’re gonna know something’s up.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  I ran to my Explorer, hopped in and tore down the street toward the park. Isis, please be with me, Hecate Great Mother, Mary Queen of Heaven, Kali give me strength, I prayed as I sped down the side roads.

  Immersed in thoughts and trying to quell my fears, I was functioning on pure adrenaline and not thinking, just acting. At the light, I grabbed my cell phone and punched in Jon’s number again. No answer. Damn it.

  Then I tried my cousin’s cell phone. The killer hadn’t said anything about calling relatives. Vinny was the only other person I could think of who might be able to help me. I wasn’t sure if all the stories I’d heard about him when I was younger were true, but I sure as hell hoped now that they were.

  “Yellooo,” Vinny answered on the second ring.

  “Vinny, it’s cousin Angie, I—I need your help.” As hard as I tried to keep calm, I began to cry as soon as I heard his familiar voice.

  “What’s wrong, doll?” He tried slowing me down as I rattled on, trying to catch my breath.

  “R-remember the Fourth of July? The girl that went missing and was found murdered in the dunes? Then a few weeks ago the other woman that was killed in Maplewood Grove? Did you read about that?”

  “Yeah, I saw it on the news—saw you on there, too. I don’t recall reading about the other woman, but I’ve been out of town—in Maplewood Grove you said?”

  I wiped my nose with a Kleenex. “Yes, Vinny, that lunatic killer has Amber!” I cried.

  “What! How do you know that? Angie, what’s going on?” His voice rose and then calmed. I sensed him struggling to keep a cool head for my sake.

  “It’s a long story, Vin, I just got a call.” I wept as I tried to clear my eyes of the tears that fell, blurring my vision.

  “He said if I call the cops he’ll hurt her. Evidently she knows him, and he offered to give her a ride home—and then he called me.”

  I could see in my mind’s eye Vinny pacing the floor and scratching his head as he planned his next move. “Okay, try and stay calm. I’m at my place in the Hampton’s, doll, let me make some calls.”

  I rushed through lights praying I didn’t get pulled over. “Please, Vinny, I’m so scared! I have to meet him at Greenview Park. By the pond. I’m on my way there now. His name’s Cliff Kendle.”

  “Gotcha—try and stall him, whatever you can do, talk to him, get him to talk about himself. Give me a few minutes to take care of some favors that are owed me,” he said, taking control of the dire situation.

  “I’ll do my best. I’ve got to get to her,” I wailed, weaving through traffic.

  “I know—just try and give me some time to work my magic, ‘kay, cuz? And be careful!”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Don’t try, doll, do it. Your daughter’s gonna need her momma after this.”

  “Thanks, Vin.” I hung up. I was still about five minutes from the park. I hoped that was enough time for my cousin.

  My cell phone rang. “MOM!” I heard Amber cry out.

  “Amber!” I wept, my voice echoing through the phone.

  His voice was venomous. “What’s taking you so long? You must not care what happens to your only daughter. You got five minutes, that’s it!”

  My tone oozed with
disdain. “I got pulled over by the cops, you asshole! For speeding!”

  “You better’ve kept your mouth shut.” I heard a click, then silence. At least I bought some more time.

  On Route 26, I headed north toward the park. Rush hour traffic was making it difficult to maneuver and make any headway as I zigzagged in and out of lanes. I had so many thoughts running through my mind—where was Jon, being foremost on my list.

  On Greenview Avenue I made a left and entered the parking lot. There were basketball courts on the right, filled with kids playing in the late afternoon sun. North of that was a playground for younger children. Mothers stood with their strollers, little toddlers swinging and playing on the slides, the large pool on the opposite side, closed up on Labor Day.

  All I could think of was Amber, visions of her as a small child running into piles of leaves, her first day of school, Christmas mornings and birthdays. I had to gain control of my emotions; later I could fall apart. And I would.

  I headed toward the back of the park on a dirt road and entered another lot closer to the pond.

  Tucked in the corner was a blue blazer with New Hampshire plates. I pulled behind it and waited, trying to stop myself from shaking.

  The driver side opened and Cliff got out. To look at him, you would never guess the malevolence that boiled underneath the good looks and tall stature. He had the look of a young collegiate. All he needed was a varsity athlete sweater. That or a surf board and he’d be your typical surfer dude, blonde and blue eyed, tanned and handsome. Exactly how Chandra described him.

  The not-judging-a-book-by-its cover message ran through my head once again and I realized how right Sean was when he said you can never tell what a person is capable of, no matter what they looked like.

  “You! You came into the shop looking for Sally.” My mind phased in and out as static filled the air and the visions threatened to crack through the ethers once more.