Every Witch Way But Dead Page 9

  “Hi…” She looked down then back at Marisa and me.

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  She avoided eye contact. “Paul.”

  “Yeah? Is he bothering you?” I asked, heading toward the door again.

  She followed. “N-No, he’s leaving. It’s okay. I told him I would call the police if he didn’t.”

  There was an awkward moment of quiet that fell over the three of us.

  Sally cleared her throat. “I, uh never got the chance to talk to you two about the concert. It’s terrible what happened,” she said.

  “Unbelievable,” Marisa added.

  I walked over to the counter. “You were there? So—Cliff went with you after all?”

  Sally nodded. “No—I mean yes, I was there. Not with Cliff. I didn’t want to bring it up at the healing circle, especially with gossipy Greta there, and then when your truck got keyed… I—I did a dumb thing.” Her eyes searched for some sign that we wouldn’t read her the riot act.

  “What do you mean by dumb?” Marisa asked, placing a basket of fresh-baked muffins on the counter. She offered one to Sally, putting it on a napkin. “You didn’t go with Paul? Please tell us you didn’t go with him?”

  Sally reached for the muffin. “N-No, I didn’t—I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered, lately.”

  Scattered wasn’t the word. Not only was her aura dark, it was like Swiss cheese.

  She took a bite and put the muffin back down. “Paul bought the tickets for the Arthur’s Graile concert. He’s a big fan. He left two tickets in my mailbox, a note saying he was sorry and that he would leave it up to me if I wanted to go with him.”

  Both Marisa and I nodded, remembering our visit with Sally the day of the concert.

  “And you went with…who?” I asked, sipping my coffee from my “Witches Brew” mug.

  “I went with my brother,” she said. “But that’s not it.”

  Marisa rolled her amber eyes skyward. “What then?”

  “I wanted to spend the night with someone. It was a terrifying ordeal seeing poor Diane—”

  “Yes, it was,” I agreed, cutting her off. There was no need to go into the gory details of a scene we’d witnessed first hand.

  “My brother went out after the concert and his friend, Kevin, took me home. You know, just to make sure I made it home safe. Only Paul was waiting for me there.” She sighed. “He was pretty upset when he saw me with Kevin. I mean, I told him he was just taking me home, but I guess to actually see us together… Well, he was angry. Angry and hurt… I think—he looked hurt.”

  “What did he do?” I asked.

  “Nothing. He just left. He’d brought me flowers, which he broke in half and threw on the ground. Then he left. I felt bad.

  “Okay, so what’s the problem?” Marisa asked.

  She was quiet for only a few seconds, but it seemed longer. “My tires were slashed and my vehicle keyed,” she softly confessed.

  “You think it was Paul?” I asked.

  “No, I don’t think so… I don’t know,” she said, half-questioning, half-stating.

  “I hope you’re still going to get that restraining order to keep Paul away,” Marisa chided.

  “After I’m done here, my brother made arrangements for my truck to be towed to a friend’s body shop, Body Magic, then he’s taking me to family court. I need some amulet or charm, something for protection.” Sally perused the showcases of jewelry and amulets, twirling her hair nervously as she shopped.

  “I have just the thing, here.” I went to a display case. “How about one of our gris-gris charms?” I pulled out a bag in royal blue.

  “Powerful magick. Our local High Priestess makes them,” Marisa added.

  “I’ll take it.” Sally took out her wallet to pay.

  “I’ll be upstairs,” Marisa said as she made her way up.

  As Sally headed for the stairs, a question popped into my mind.

  “Hey, Sally, what was keyed on your car, anything or just scratches?”

  She looked at me, her lips curled downward. “It said, ‘Go to hell witch’.”

  Chapter Ten

  Ruby is a stone of passion. Attention must be taken when using this crystal, because it can bring negativity and anger to the outside. Ruby should be used with knowledge of how to increase from the experiences it brings. Ruby can also amplify positive energies. It is said to heighten the positive aspects that you already possess. Use this reserve of positive energies to help you conquer the negative energies that ruby might allow to surface. ~ From Marisa Arrucci’s workshop on Gem Power.

  The summer heat arrived with the heartwarming sunshine that we especially cherished after the frigid vagaries of our springtime. My garden was splashed with color and alive with nature. Frogs, turtles and koi all made their home in our outdoor pond.

  I took a few minutes to revel in my green thumb achievements. My lavender, a profusion of purple blossoms, perfumed the air. I inhaled the heady aroma of thyme and spicy scents of tarragon. My herbs were all nestled in their well-groomed beds, one for culinary use, the other magickal. Simply having my rosemary survive the arctic winter meant I’d done something right. However, relaxation time was over and I had errands to do.

  My day consisted of shopping for Jake and packing the necessities for sleep-away soccer camp. Then there was food-shopping, banking, cleaning and running the shop. All kept me in fifth gear. Thankfully, my son, Danny, rescued me so I could tend to my other business.

  I stopped for lunch at the Healthy Harvest. There I literally bumped into Detective Bennette. I was busy taking inventory of the delectable desserts and backed right into the imposing officer.

  He was your typical tall and handsome type, very suave, with tanned skin and luxurious dark blonde, wavy hair, peppered with a few grays. The perfect amount of gray, just enough to make him more distinguished looking. He had a build that I deduced required at least a few days a week at the gym. Syrupy sweet eye candy for certain.

  But his eyes were his most striking feature. It was as if someone had taken a dropper filled with Caribbean waters and dotted his irises with the crystal blue sea.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going—” I apologized, blushing three shades of rose.

  “Mrs. Kane, how are you? Nice to see you.” He smiled and his face brightened to reveal pearly white teeth and deep-set dimples.

  “Detective. Hi, I’m fine and you? Busy, I would imagine?”

  “Yes, I am, unfortunately. When I’m busy, that generally means bad news for someone. Can I buy you a cup of coffee? I—uh—I feel badly about all the trouble you’ve been going through and then having to question you like that after the concert…but it’s the job, you know? I hope your husband didn’t get too upset,” he shyly asked, his eyes taking a downward glance, but not before looking me over. His gaze finally rested on my own.

  I made a flippant gesture with my hand, as if it were a common occurrence for us, being questioned by the police. “Oh no, I understand. We understand—and I’d love to have a cup of coffee, but…I’m running late. I had bunch of things to do this morning and I promised Marisa I’d be back. So… I have to get back to the shop. I’ll take a rain check, though.” Oh my Gods, I was a babbling fool.

  His smile was hypnotic and I found myself having thoughts I shouldn’t, but I indulged anyway.

  “I’ll cash in on that rain check next week. Good to see you.” He winked, grabbed his bag off the counter and walked out. His musky, citrus scent lingered behind.

  * * *

  By the time I got back to the shop, it was mid-afternoon, the time of day business really picks up.

  Today we had a scheduled tarot reader, Rhiannon. She had built a nice reputation for herself and Rhia’s appointments rapidly filled up. So the last thing we needed was more trouble from the holy rollers, of which there was an abundance, or so it seemed.

  But this time it wasn’t the Jehovah’s, it was the Born Agains. I weaved my way through them to ge
t back into the store as they stood in a cluster on the sidewalk, handing out flyers to all who entered. A few held up signs that heralded Praise the Lord and others condemned those who followed the path of Satan to Hell.

  We’d been through this before and I knew that, providing they kept the walkway open and allowed customers access to the store, there was little we could do.

  Southern Barb was outside, involved in a heated debate with one of the congregation. I couldn’t allow her to carry on alone so I rolled up my sleeves and went out to join her. I felt strangely combative.

  The overzealous preacher attacked. “Ah, the witch herself has come, no doubt to cast a spell on us all. Watch out! She may look like an innocent angel, but don’t be fooled. She’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing! A vixen! She’ll try and seduce you with her wicked ways! Can’t you feel her oozing her sexuality like an animal in heat!”

  “Hey! Watch your mouth,” I countered, making my way closer to the puffed-up reverend. With all the trouble that had been plaguing me recently, I was in no mood for the insults of this fervent manipulator of words.

  “Just like they try and convince you that Halloween is innocent and fun. Beware!” he went on, his eyes bugged out. “They claim its origins are in Christianity, but nothing can be further from the truth. It’s based on Baal devotion and sacrifices to demons and they partake in cannibalism,” the preacher bellowed, all decked out in a tight, pristine white suit, with sweat stains that rapidly spread down his sides. The vision of an overstuffed sausage came to mind. I was tempted to go on with a verbal attack, but something stopped me.

  I felt his gaze on me.

  I knew he was near.

  The desire began.

  The preacher’s gaze went right through me, undressing me. I felt it as surely as if the preacher had done it with his own hands. He sent his thoughts in my direction with distinct desire. But I knew he wasn’t doing it on his own. He had help.

  His help.

  Where was he?

  The preacher’s gaze fixed on my breasts, which peeked over my paisley bustier.

  He raised his Bible overhead. “Don’t let them fool you, my friends, they’ll try and cloak what they do under the guise of Druid and Celtic beliefs, but they’re invocating demons, placing curses and summoning the dead. Indeed! Having sex with the devil! The Bible says quite clearly ‘Let no one be found among you that sacrifices his son or daughter in the fire, who practices divination or sorcery, interprets omens, engages in witchcraft, or casts spells. Nor one who is a medium or spiritualist that consults the dead.’ That’s from Deuteronomy, 18:10-11, my good people.”

  I walked over to him. “You have got to be kidding me, that couldn’t be further from the truth, but you wouldn’t know the truth if it came down from heaven and landed on your lap, now would you? If you knew anything about what you’re talking about, you’d know there isn’t even a Satan in the Craft. I’m so tired of repeating myself to you. We don’t have Satan. We don’t acknowledge him or demons. Satan is your guy. Samhain—not Halloween—is a day to remember our loved ones who have passed on. And we do not claim it has roots in Christianity. It’s been celebrated before Christianity! Isn’t there anyone in your sad, pathetic life who’s passed on who you miss? It’s not about demons and it certainly doesn’t include cannibalism. Where do you get your information?” I was on the verge of yelling, but I knew that was what he wanted. He was baiting me, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d fall into his trap.

  He puffed up, sticking out his chest, and tapped his worn-out copy of the Bible. “I have the best source for my information.”

  “How dare you misinform these good people with your fear-based drivel. And sex with the devil! Seems you’re a bit preoccupied with sex, preacher. I see you ogling me, staring at my breasts.”

  His gaze traveled down to my waist. Encircling it was a silver coin belt that jingled as I strode around him.

  He became flustered. “I—I am not! N-Not that anyone can miss them—popping out of your blouse like that! Do you want men staring at you? Lusting after you? Vixen indeed!” He harrumphed, pulling down his vest and smoothing his tie. “My information comes from the Bible. If you indulge in the occult, you will not get into heaven. You may think you’re only dabbling and aren’t serious, but let me tell you—Satan is surely serious about you. You’re being drawn down a slippery slope. They’ve recently found that many suicides are a direct result from this so-called playing around with the occult.”

  I toyed with him, hoping to get him hot under his rigid collar. “Which Bible? There are many versions.” Some of my customers who had appointments for readings were turning around and heading for their cars. Now I was angry. “Barb, could you go inside and ask Marisa to call the police, please? This guy has stepped over the line.”

  Shaking her head in agreement, my southern peach of a friend did as I asked.

  “What about children’s fiction?” someone questioned from the gathering crowd. “Those books about magick, that can’t be harmful.”

  The preacher handed out flyers as he spoke. “Have you not heard me, child, any involvement is playing with fire! This is true of all forms of the occult, ever since Eve was deceived in the garden, throughout the worship of Baal which is manifested today in the Roman Catholic Church, Hinduism, Buddhism and Islam.”

  The same man kept on. “But that’s not right, preacher, I know many good people of other faiths.”

  A voice boomed out, over everyone’s incessant babbling. “You’re a man who preaches fear!” I recognized the dark outline of the man donned in shades of ebony. “You know nothing of what you speak. You’re ignorant and so you prey on these people’s insecurities.”

  He It was him. I noted an aura of great power around this individual, and desire. He felt familiar. I had to get to him, to speak with him. I looked frantically through the crowd. He’d been part of the sexual energy that invaded me, the one in the park. I was certain of it.

  Where was he? I searched in the direction of his voice, but there were too many people surrounded him.

  The preacher spat back at the young man, “You cannot make yourself or any other into a false idol. Look at the one in Rome, bringing all those to hell with him.”

  The mysterious stranger must have walked toward the outer perimeter of the crowd because his voice now seemed farther away. “You can’t mean the Pope?” he asked.

  The preacher bellowed, “I most certainly do!”

  “You’re a fool!” The young man’s voice resonated with confidence. Could he be using magick? I’d never actually seen anyone “throw” his voice, but every time he spoke, it came from another direction.

  I walked away from the preacher and listened to my inner voice, hoping it would lead me to the stranger. Goosebumps erupted on my arms. The spot where the bloody pentagram had been drawn suddenly itched.

  The air felt charged with electricity.

  There, walking around the corner, was the man in the dark clothes. His aura glowed a deep red. I followed him.

  “Wait!” I called out to him. He either ignored me or didn’t hear me. “Hello!”

  In a blur of sweeping energy, he stood before me. I never even saw him move, but there he was, inches away. He radiated sexual energy. The tickle that began below my belly became an ache, needing to be satisfied.

  I knew him.

  His hands were soft and familiar as they caressed my neck, fingering my pentacle provocatively. Dark blonde curls fell down almost to his shoulders, making him look like Michelangelo’s David.

  I couldn’t speak.

  He slid his hand around my hip and pulled me against the hardness of his erection. I gasped. His pulsing energy seared my skin. I felt faint. The energies swirled around us like a tide pool, dragging us downward. His other hand wrapped around my neck. My hands lay limp at my sides. The warmth of his breath caressed my skin. His lips hovered close to mine. At the touch of our bodies, one on one, my ability to read his thoughts kicked into overdrive. He m
ust have realized there was more than met the eye here, too. It was shared knowledge, plucked from the etheric realm.

  “I know you,” I whispered.

  “And I know you, but that was lifetimes ago.”

  “But how?”

  Flashes of another time roared through my brain. Sand and stone. Hot desert heat and a figure gasping for water. All at once, I knew I was the one dying of thirst in that arid place. In the distance, a man on horseback road away. He was leaving me to perish in the desert sun.

  “You left me to die,” I gasped as he pulled me closer. “Who are you?”

  “That’s not important. Just remember, I did it once, I can do it again. Stay away from me, witch.” His grip tightened. My eyes fluttered closed as I lost my breath and fell toward the cobblestone walkway. But not before I saw regret in his eyes.

  “I don’t know how to love anymore,” he said, his voice laden with misery as I lost consciousness.

  * * *

  “Mrs. Kane!”

  Sturdy arms cradled me as I crumbled into my savior’s arms. “Where is he?” I whispered, looking into Sean Bennette’s aqua eyes.

  “What happened? Can you stand?” he asked.

  “Yes, I think so—where’d that man go? He was just here.”

  “I didn’t see anyone, Mrs. Kane. Just you, and you looked as if you were about to faint. It’s awfully hot today.”

  I wiped my hair out of my face and looked around for the man in crowd, but he was gone.

  He held my arm. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your shop. You can walk back?”

  “Yes, of course. What were you doing here?” I asked as we rounded the corner.

  “After lunch I had to pick up my dry cleaning—don’t tell my boss.” He winked. “I saw you walking off. You looked…desperate.”

  I looked over at him. “I did?”

  “Maybe that’s not a proper description. Bothered, you looked bothered. I saw the crowd gathered around your store and thought I’d see if I could help, then you walked off and I followed you. Good thing. That would’ve been a nasty fall.”