Every Witch Way But Dead Page 7

  Joe asked, “You have a broom? Of course, you must. I…I meant to sweep the floor.” He blushed.

  I smiled at his naiveté. “Yes, but I think the police should see this before I clean it up. I’m just going to leave everything as is. Thanks, though, for the offer.”

  “Well then, Angelica, it was a pleasure talking to you. I’m sorry about all of this and if I hear anything I’ll be sure to let you know. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”

  “Ringing her doorbell, no doubt,” Ivy mumbled.

  I shot her a stern gaze. He was, after all, polite. Persistent, but polite. “Hey, back at ya’, Joseph. If you ever change your mind, I’m here,” I reiterated.

  “Touché.” With that, he left, colliding with Kara as she came bounding in carrying a box of doughnuts. They both took a moment eyeing each other and smiling.

  “Hey, how are you?” Kara breathlessly greeted him.

  “Hi, nice to meet you. See you around.” Joe smiled in return. He reluctantly left the store, looking back at Kara, who bumped into the display of pagan greeting cards.

  Unable to tear her jet-black eyes away, she almost knocked it over. I tried not to laugh.

  Kara held a handful of flyers that had been adhered to the front door. She dumped them into the nearby garbage pail. Heading for the kitchen and the pot of coffee, she asked, “What’s with all the people out there? What happened to the window? And who was that gorgeous guy? Is everything okay?” Kara’s satiny hair fanned out while she moved around the table, fixing us all another cup of java. She seemed to have had a lethal level of caffeine already as she whirled around the kitchen. Then she noticed the brick on the floor.

  “Someone threw that at the window,” Ivy explained, pointing toward the shattered glass.

  In the midst of the entire drama taking place around me, I noted a distinct change in the energy. The pull into the ethers became harder to ignore. Coupled with the itch that began at my navel and traveled south, I found it hard to concentrate.

  “Angelica, I said are you all right? I had a dream last night that you were stranded somewhere. It was hot, wherever you were,” Kara said, handing me a mug of coffee. “You didn’t look like you, though, you had dark hair.”

  That caught my attention. “Yeah, I had a dream, a nightmare really, weird, very weird.”

  “No kidding? Wow! I really did tune into you, then. Excellent!” Kara sighed, amazed at her own abilities. “What happened here? Those nuts again?”

  I silently laughed as she shook her head in admiration. Kara was just learning about her psychic skills. “I think so, but I’m not sure.”

  “The police are here,” Ivy announced.

  Marisa should be next through the side door, I thought and, as if on cue, there she was, all aflutter, a swirl of chocolate brown gauze gliding in on a summer breeze.

  “Okay, what’s up? There’s a group of protesters out front and one of them accused me of calling the devil to create havoc in town,” Marisa, the drama queen, announced. Her hands rested on her hips and her shiny star earrings danced about her slender neck.

  Kara pointed to the brick on the polished oak floor then informed her of the latest news. “Angie had another dream. A freaky one. I did, too.”

  “Damn,” Marisa growled, throwing her bag on the counter.

  “Hey, Mrs. Kane. What’s up now? You callin’ the four horsemen of the apocalypse again?” Officer Pugliese teased as he stepped through the back door.

  “Get out your notepad, Rob.” I sighed and led him out back. Marisa and Kara followed close behind.

  * * *

  “Angie, what happened?” Marisa asked, peering down at me as she offered her hand to pull me up.

  My hands were dirty. “W-What?” I felt my face turn crimson after I noticed the few people who lingered around the shop were all staring at me. I’d somehow ended up on the ground outside.

  Marisa reached to pick me up. “That’s what I want to know. You came out back to wash the blood off the side of the store and then you shouted, ‘He’s here!’”

  I rose to my feet. A layer of fear clung to me. “I said he’s here? I don’t recall.”

  “Rob had just taken his notes and disposed of the bird. You said good-bye to him but—you didn’t look right to me. You were heading out back to wash the blood off the shingles, I saw you talking to this guy then I got involved with a customer.”

  “I don’t remember talking to anyone,” I whispered.

  Marisa led me inside and sat me at the kitchen table. She glared at my arm and twisted it forward.

  Her eyes widened. “Great Goddess, what the hell is going on?”

  There, in blood, was the inverted pentagram painted on the inside of my wrist.

  Chapter Seven

  Topaz ~ Recognized as the "stone of true love". Wear any variety of topaz jewelry as an amulet to protect against injury or attack. Topaz helps to create happiness, long life, beauty, intelligence and good luck when worn by persons born in November. One can focus their desires through this stone, visual images in the mind are transformed into universal messages. It also aids in communication from other realms in the universe. ~ From Marisa Arrucci’s Gem Power workshop.

  Marisa had fresh coffee brewing and lavender cream scones waiting, still warm from the oven, when I entered the shop the following morning.

  She’d insisted I go home early the day before after I’d spoken to the police, and we hadn’t talked since.

  “Good morning,” she said in a singsong tone. She wore a saffron-colored handkerchief-style dress. Her auburn hair fell like a halo around her face, looking cool and calm. I, on the other hand, was dragging my butt. I put my over-stuffed purse on the back table.

  The aroma coming from the kitchen worked its magick and I began to feel my mood lighten. “Mmm, something smells heavenly, ooh, my favorite,” I said, reaching for a scone. I buttered the pastry and watched it melt into the doughy confection. Neither of us wanted to bring up what had happened the day before.

  “We finally got our order of books this morning,” Marisa said between bites of the flakey dough. “Everyone off to work?” she asked, tip-toeing around the large elephant in the room, the murdered dove.

  “Yup…” I answered between sips of Hawaiian coffee.

  “Steven and Jon getting along working together?”

  “So far there have been no declarations of war that I’m aware of. That’s always good news. It’s not easy working for your father, especially when he owns the company.” In two bites the scone was gone.

  “Before I forget, a Detective Bennette was here looking for you earlier. He wanted to talk to you about the broken glass and the bird.”

  There, she brought it up. “Oh, he mentioned he might want to talk again. He didn’t mention the concert?”

  “Nope. He said he heard about what happened here yesterday and wanted to see how everything was. Some personal attention you’re getting there, baby cakes. A detective whose aura, I might add, turned a healthy red when talking about you.”

  “Red, huh?”

  “Yup. He said he’ll try and stop by later. You don’t look like you slept very well,” she said, no doubt looking at the dark circles under my eyes.

  I knew I had to say something. She beat me to it. “Did you remember anything when you went home yesterday? Do you know who it was you were talking to?”

  “I can’t remember. It’s a blur. Marisa, do you recall what he looked like?”

  “Hmm… He’s tall, well-built, with curly…no straight…no.” She shook her head. “Damn, all I remember is his height and he wore dark jeans and a black muscle shirt. I think he had a tattoo.”

  “I gave myself a migraine last night trying to figure all this out. Between Diane’s death at the concert, the dead bird, the brick through the window and passing out…” Dare I risk asking my friend how the tarot spread went? I’d been postponing the inevitable for days. I wanted to know, and at the same time dreaded aski
ng.

  “Well, I can tell you the brick was thrown by the uncle of your friend. Joseph’s Uncle Ethan. I just told Rob to give him a strong warning to lay off and stay away from the shop, or next time we’ll press charges.” My dear friend finished her scone and began unpacking the books. “By the way, Sally had another treatment. She just left, right before you got here.”

  “Mmm—I saw her in the parking lot,” I said absentmindedly. Do I ask, or don’t I? The sense of foreboding had overshadowed me all morning, like the few seconds before you’re going into a pool for a swim and you know it’s ice cold, but you have to jump in anyway. I dove in. “So…” I tested the waters. “The reading? Did you do it?”

  “Yes, the reading, I did it,” she echoed, a favorite stall tactic. “I was wondering when you were going to ask about it.”

  Not a good sign. Marisa always repeated statements when she was unsure or hesitant to broach a subject. She would make a lousy poker player, she had way too many tells, especially her aura, which darkened a bit.

  With a heavy sigh, she recounted the reading. “It’s not so good. Swords, many swords came up…” she said, hands flailing in her typical Italian style. I was left waiting for the other shoe to come crashing down. “…and then there’s the Tower.”

  Bingo, there was the size thirteen boot, plopped right onto my lap.

  “Well, that doesn’t necessarily—” I tried interrupting.

  “Angelica Marie.” Marisa, when attempting to get my attention, used my full name as if she were scolding her child, Andrea Rose, or William Henry. You could almost see her finger bobbing in the air. “Now, you and I know that part of the reading is intuitive and part the cards—if you’re going to go into the meanings of the suit of swords, save it.”

  I slouched as she went on.

  “Yes, it could be communication issues, but intuitively it didn’t feel like that.”

  Deep down, I knew it, too.

  “We have to be more vigilant in the coming months,” my red-headed friend lectured, her curls bouncing as she continued to empty boxes of books on herbs, candle magick and aromatherapy. “The cards warned of a dark energy and to be very careful, things are not as they seem.”

  Months, I thought. “This isn’t going to rectify itself sooner?” I moaned aloud.

  “Don’t worry, baby cakes, we’ll work some protection spells at the full moon. I think we’re going to have to share this bit of info with the girls. To be forewarned is to be forearmed.”

  “Were there any solutions to this predicament offered in the reading? Or…let me guess, this another example of my past life coming back to bite me in my ass. Right?” I asked sardonically.

  “No solutions that I can see. It’s karmic, Angie, and you know how that goes, you just have to ride it out,” Marisa conceded. “There’s a male involved, heavy energy around him. I also picked up a lot of female energies intertwined. You were the focus of the reading and somehow connected to all of this. The outcome was a question mark.”

  “Terrific,” I whined, helping Marisa unpack more boxes. “I never get an answer when I need one.”

  Looking out the window, I saw Joe and Sally in what appeared to be a deep conversation. I didn’t even hear Marisa when she began to go over the next night’s list of attendees for the healing circle. As I continued to watch the two flirting, I felt the heat between them. It was as if someone was sending me erotic thoughts. I don’t normally fantasize about other people. Tightness began to spread from my navel, downward. In a flash, I saw it on the internal screen of my mind.

  Sally was naked and lay atop a stone slab. It was night. The only light emanated from tiki torches that surrounded her and him. He rose to meet her and she welcomed him inside her. Then the vision was gone. Who was he?

  At that moment, I caught sight of a young man all in black, his back turned toward me. I could see the tall, muscular outline under his shirt. The spot where the pentagram had been drawn on my arm began to itch. Quickly he vanished around the corner, and the sexual feelings slowly subsided. I wanted to go out to find him, but Marisa engaged me in conversation before I reached the door.

  A few minutes later, the store buzzed with customers. While I rang up another sale, a handsome young man walked up to the counter. I guessed he was in his late twenties.

  “Hi, I’m looking for Sally, a petite blonde about so high,” he said, raising his arm shoulder height. “She was having some kind of treatment here?”

  “You just missed her. You are?” I asked.

  “Oh—Cliff, a friend of hers. I guess I’ll catch up with her later, thanks. Great store.” He gave me a wink and a nod then flew out of the shop like a leaf on an autumn breeze.

  Chapter Eight

  Opal ~ Stirs up your psychic perceptions and mystical understanding. There are those who think opal is an "unlucky" stone. This may be because opal can inspire transformation to occur in your life. If you are not equipped for this, it may be better to choose a different stone. It helps to catalyze change, causing opportunities for expansion to spring up around you. ~ Angelica Kane, from her article Gemstones and You.

  In a room lit by candles, the ten women who attended our healing circle sat waiting for Marisa and me to begin. Kara was the only one from our coven to attend the circle this night. We had a pretty consistent group of women that attended every month. This was Sally’s first time.

  It had been almost a week since my last vision at the Arthur’s, not including the nightmares, and I needed the boost these Reiki sessions provided for me. I became increasingly frightened and skittish as each day passed. I began to doubt my abilities, and that was not like me.

  The healings took place upstairs, in our sanctuary. The atmosphere exuded peace and tranquility. The colors ranged from a deep mauve carpet to a pale blush on the walls. Posters of the chakra system, reflexology points, Japanese symbols of health and prosperity adorned the walls. Pots of lush greenery added to the healing energy.

  “Okay, ladies, let’s all take a nice, deep, cleansing breath,” I said, leading the meditation on this lovely, sultry evening. With the windows open, a breeze blew in from the east. The sheer drapes billowed as if invisible fairies playfully danced behind them.

  Marisa walked around with a multicolored abalone shell filled with sage, lavender and sweet grass, smudging each member of the circle.

  “For those not aware, the act of smudging creates a sacred space for the work we are about to do, and also cleanses the auric field,” Marisa explained as she waved a turkey feather around Sally, allowing the smoke to encircle her.

  When she was through, I instructed the women to grab a mat and find a comfortable position on the floor, while I turned on the CD of Reiki music. The room glowed with candlelight. This created the perfect ambiance to facilitate healing. Marisa and I incorporated Reiki energy in our healings. Reiki, a Japanese technique for stress reduction and relaxation also promotes healing. It’s effectuated by laying on hands and developed from the idea that an unseen chi or life force energy flows through each of us and causes us to be alive. If one's life force energy becomes low, then we may be more likely to get sick or feel stress, and if it’s high, we’re more apt to be happy and healthy.

  We took the women on a guided meditation, first grounding them then bringing in curative light from the universe. It was a slow process, but very useful. Some of the women there were struggling with breast cancer, diabetes or high blood pressure and others were looking for an emotional healing. At the end of the thirty-minute guided meditation, Marisa and I went around to each woman and gave her at least five minutes of Reiki. Those who needed more received additional time.

  I stood before Sally and stayed with her longer. I felt strange energy around her, exceedingly scattered, and patches of gray in her aura. That was not a good sign.

  I slowly led the women back to the real world. Everyone stretched and smiled like contented newborns after a long nap. They all seemed extremely satisfied with their experience. />
  I, on the other hand, felt particularly disoriented. I glanced toward Marisa and Kara, who brought me a glass of water.

  “Here,” Kara whispered, handing the glass to me.

  Marisa headed toward the stairs. “Ladies, there’re refreshments downstairs and those who wish, feel free to mosey around. Greta, I’ll show you and the others the CD I played tonight. It’s really relaxing, isn’t it?” She led the parade of women downstairs. She turned back to look my way and I gave her a thumbs up along with a wink. Inside, I felt dizzy.

  “Angelica, do you feel sick? You look a bit green around the gills,” Kara asked.

  She sounded like she was speaking through a tin can. Her lips moved and I knew she was saying something, but I couldn’t make out a single word. I wanted to respond, to say something, but before I could reply, the room went black.

  Down again I went, into darkness. Inexplicably familiar with this process, I heard the voice right away, beseeching me to help her. It was the same voice as the last time. I tried to get close to it, moving sluggishly through the pernicious darkness.

  A light radiated down the corridor of my mind. Help her, the disembodied voice echoed through the shadows. This time, I knew it was Veronica’s mother. But why was she still coming to me? Did it have anything to do with the vision? I felt so weak.

  I inched to the light. This wasn’t good. Compelled to move toward it, I gradually made my way closer, hoping to see her and ask why her daughter was still in peril.

  Isis help me.

  The shard of steel before me rose above my head in clear view like all the other times. My breath came shallow and ragged as I endeavored to grope toward the hollow voice of Veronica’s mother. A whoosh came from all sides of me in surround-sound and muffled the cries for help, along with a barrage of clatter I couldn't quite make out. Louder it pounded, then heat seared through, as if white-hot lightning had struck and traveled up my arm.

  My nervous system went into spasm.

  I writhed on the floor.