A Tale of 3 Witches (4 page)

"Packages get stolen all the time," Stacy said. "We could toss whatever he's bringing in the dumpster behind the bar."

"His bedroom faces the street," Birdie said. "I'm sure he's keeping a close eye on his baggage. Besides, that young man's already got them up there," she said, watching Gus enter the empty room.

"It's not a literal package." Mara sighed, relaxed, listening. "It's more...what's bringing him." Her eyes snapped open. "He's a vessel." She turned and looked at Stacy. "My Aunt Tillie says we're going to need you."

Suddenly, there was a thump. They all turned. Fiona had slid off the chair and onto the floor, unconscious.

Birdie and Lolly rushed over to their sister and squatted down next to her, feeling for a pulse.

"She's still breathing." Birdie's face paled. "Wake up, Fiona," Birdie said, shaking her. "Come back here, right now."

"I'll call 9-1-1." Stacy said, grabbing the phone.

Lolly touched Fiona and cried out. Then she looked up, rocking back and forth on her heels. "It's magic. Bad magic."

"Aunt Tillie," Mara called out, kneeling by Fiona's side. "We need you. Can you tell us what's wrong with Fiona?"

A fog coalesced around Fiona's body and entered it. Then it expanded out. As it dissipated, Mara gasped.

"What are we dealing with?" Stacy asked, anxious. "Stroke? Heart attack? Should I call the paramedics?"

"It's too late." Mara looked over at Stacy, horrified. "Fiona's soul is missing."

Everyone in the room collectively gasped. Then, as one, they all turned and looked up the stairs, at Mr. Henderson's door.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The rest of that night and the next day were spent deep in preparation. Once the rest of the coven members arrived, Birdie had them carry Fiona's limp body into a sparsely lit room at the end of a long hallway and lay her on the bed. Each member of the coven stood guard over her in shifts, as Mara and Stacy grabbed some shut-eye.

Before Gus could rest, however, he hit the internet and trolled it hard, going through his Facebook and Twitter connections to find ways to combat the menace facing them. Finally, his work paid off and a cell phone alert woke him up before dawn, with a response to his request. He woke Mara up but, as they were leaving a note for Birdie and Stacy in the lobby, Birdie walked in.

"Where are you two youngsters off to so early?"

"We got a lead on a hoodoo guy near here," Gus said. "Steve Charon. He's battled this kind of thing before."

"Steve has?" Birdie looked surprised. "Why that crafty old mule deer. He never told me a word."

"Do you know him?" Mara asked, surprised.

"From another lifetime ago. He asked me to go to the school cotillion with him when I was a girl. He lives way out in the boondocks. Do you know how to get there?"

"We have GPS in the car," Gus said.

Birdie laughed and pulled out blank piece of stationery and a pen. "GPS won't help you in the middle of nowhere. I'd best draw you a map."

*   *   *

It was just after dawn when Birdie awoke Stacy.

"Come," she said.

Groggily, Stacy followed her grandmother down the stairs and into the basement. Her eyes popped wide open when she saw Fiona sitting upright, looking sharp as ever.

"Oh, Auntie, you're awake!" Stacy rushed over to hug her, but the woman frowned and slapped her hands away.

Fiona looked at Birdie and something in her gaze made Stacy take two steps back.

She flicked her eyes to her grandmother and said, "What's going on?"

"Use your sight, not your eyes, girl." Fiona mocked.

Only the voice was not that of her great aunt.

"B-Birdie," Stacy stammered, looking at her grandmother for an explanation.

"Anastasia, meet Mara's Aunt Tillie," Birdie said.

"Excuse me?" Stacy looked from Birdie to Tillie. "But how? Why?"

Tillie, wearing Fiona's body like a cloak, shrugged. "Birdie needed my help, I needed a vessel. Can't prepare for a Soul Stealer without hands." She looked at Fiona's hands. "These are a little small but they'll have to do."

Stacy swooned and someone caught her.

The girl swallowed hard as the ghost who had been bitch-slapping her just yesterday slid off the table. She stalked over to Stacy like a panther, eyeing her up and down.

Stacy took a deep breath, wondering what else could possibly happen this weekend. Body snatchers, soul stealers, ornery ghosts...would she wake up tomorrow to a talking dog?

Tillie circled Stacy. Twice. Then she turned to Birdie and said, "This is the Seeker? Are you certain?" Tillie frowned. "She's too damn skinny to be any good."

Birdie nodded. "She needs training."

"She needs a cheeseburger."

Stacy sighed. "It's not enough you have to knock me around, now you're insulting my appearance?"

"Don't be so sensitive," Tillie snapped. "Honestly, Birdie you must have been too soft on her."

"Ha!" Stacy said. She looked around for Mara and Gus, but they were absent. "Where's Mara? Shouldn't she be here?" Suddenly, Stacy was struck by a thought. "Wait. She doesn't know you're doing this, does she? I don't think she's going to be happy about you being in Fiona's body one little bit."

"Which is why we're not going to tell her. Are we, my little poppet?" Tillie smiled a cold, wolfish smile at Stacy.

Birdie took a deep breath and said, "The ritual, Tillie."

"Right." Tillie pointed to a chair and told Stacy to sit.

Birdie disappeared into another room and returned with a black velvet cloth. She placed it on Stacy's lap.

Whatever was inside was heavy and icy cold.

Lolly was busy measuring potions and pinching off herbs, tossing everything into a gigantic cauldron that swung over the hearth. She fumbled inside her cape and produced a pack of matches. With one strike and a swift toss, the fire was blazing within minutes. Then she joined Birdie and Tillie. They formed a circle around Stacy, holding hands and chanting.

"Powerful Hecate, hear this spell, charge this tool, charge it well. Guide The Seeker on her quest. You know all, you know best."

The room filled with energy and they began to move around Stacy, almost as if in a trance, gathering speed with each circle, chanting faster with each pace.

The cauldron began to bubble, the flames beneath it hissing and snapping at the air. Stacy closed her eyes, felt her lap grow warm along with the energy in the room.

Then the velvet package began to pulsate, ever so softly.

And a spark shot from the fire onto Stacy's lap. She yelped as the velvet disintegrated, then exploded into the air as ash. What remained was a dagger with a gleaming gold blade, the length of her arm.

She jumped up and swiped at her jeans. "Hot! Hot!"

Birdie, Lolly and Tillie broke the circle. Birdie rolled her eyes at Stacy as Tillie said, "Great. Now we have to do it all over again."

Birdie sighed. "This could take a while."

Tillie agreed. "How much time do we have until Mara gets back?"

"Until noon, I would think," Birdie said. "I sent them the long way."

Stacy looked at both of them, speechless.

*   *   *

It took Mara and Gus an hour and forty-five minutes to reach the address.

"Are you sure this is it?" Gus asked, pulling the car down the gravel driveway. "I feel like we've been driving around forever."

Mara checked the address Birdie had scribbled down for her on her makeshift map.

"2012 Black Hawk Lane. That's what it says on the mailbox."

Gus continued down the dark driveway, passing over-grown oaks with gnarled limbs that reached out and scraped the hood of the car. A black cat darted in front of the vehicle and Gus slammed on the brakes, jostling Mara in her seatbelt.

They looked at each other.

"That's not good," Mara said.

"No kidding." Gus coughed. "I almost garroted myself with the damn seatbelt."

He adjusted the seat belt and was about to put the car in reverse when the cat catapulted itself through the open driver's side window.

Gus screeched as the cat landed in his lap, its sharp little nails digging into Gus's leg. "Get him off!"

The cat sprang toward Mara, climbed onto the dashboard and flicked its tail, staring straight ahead.

Mara giggled. "Maybe he's a guide."

They both stared at the cat who let out a howl and pawed the windshield.

"Well, you heard the cat. Onward, driver." Mara said, nudging Gus.

Gus sighed and stepped lightly on the gas pedal.

The house was a football field away. Although, as they got closer, they saw it wasn't actually a house. It was an old railway caboose, painted dingy red.

"Someone takes their recycling seriously," Gus said.

They got out of the car, cat in tow, and headed up the rickety steps.

The door creaked open before Mara had a chance to knock.

The inside of the caboose was dark. But as Mara's eyes adjusted, she could see a man sitting in front of her, on a rocking chair. He was hunched over so far, his hands practically scraped the floor as the chair moved. He was holding on to his last lock of dark hair and looked to be about 150 years old.

The cat snaked around the man's feet, then jumped on his shoulder.

"What do you want." He muttered. "Why are you bothering an old man?"

"Are you..." Gus cleared his throat. "Steve Charon?"

As the man turned his face, the light from the open door illuminated him. Mara noticed the man was blind.

"Who's asking?"

"Birdie Geraghty sent us, Mr. Charon." Mara said. "She gave me this to give you."

She placed the coin in his hands that Birdie had given her.

"Birdie? Haven't heard that name in years." His hands closed on the coin. Then he brought it to his nose, smelled it and smiled, showing large, empty gaps between his teeth. "Still smells like her." He brought the coin down. "It also smells like trouble. Wanna tell me what's going on?"

*   *   *

Gus and Mara filled him in on what was happening in Amethyst.

He spit on his own floor, muttering, "Soul Stealer!" Then, louder, "Not on my watch!"

He made his way towards a large vase that sat near a worn out recliner and dropped the coin in. Then he left the room.

He was gone for several minutes when Gus said, "What are we supposed to do?"

"Wait, I guess." Mara said. "I wonder if there's a light switch in here?"

"He's blind. He probably stopped paying his electric bill about a century ago." Gus pulled open a blind to let the sunlight in and choked on the resulting dust cloud. "Which apparently, is also when he stopped dusting," Gus said, coughing.

The cat narrowed its eyes at Gus, accusingly.

"Stop looking at me." Gus told the cat.

The cat hissed.

"I hate this cat," Gus told Mara.

"I think he knows that." Mara laughed.

They heard some load banging and saw, through the open doorway that led to the next room, boxes being tossed about, papers swirling through the air.

"Damn it all, where in Hades is it!" The old man shouted.

"This place is like Hoarders for the Disabled." Gus muttered. "I'm surprised he hasn't killed himself yet."

"Do you need help?" Mara called out.

The racket stopped and the man appeared in the doorway. He looked like he was trying to stand taller, but it wasn't going so well.

"Young lady, judging from the sound of your voice and the scent of your cheap perfume..."

"I don't wear perfume." Mara said. "Hate the stuff."

"Then your boyfriend's cheap perfume..."

"Hey!" Gus protested. "This is Guerlain. You have any idea how expensive it is?" Then, to Mara, "See? I told you I should have blended my own."

"Regardless," the man said, interrupting. "I'd bet the farm I've been retrievin' souls before either of you were a gleam in your mama's eye. So no, thank you, I don't need no help from Donnie and Marie!"

He turned and went back to tossing the room apart.

"Aren't Donnie and Marie in their fifties?" Gus asked.

"I think it was a metaphor."

"I hate old people." Gus sighed.

"One of these days, we're both going to be old."

Gus gasped. "Bite your tongue, you evil woman. That's what Botox is for."

Mara tried to peer into the room. "What do you think he's doing?"

"If he wasn't one of Birdie's friends? I'd think he was looking for a shotgun and a cooking pot. He's probably planning to have human veal for dinner, and share our bodies with the cat."

"You're just being silly." Mara looked at the cat, who was winding around her legs. "Isn't he, sweet pea," Mara said to the cat, squatting down to stroke its fur.

The cat gave Gus a look of triumph.

Gus narrowed his eyes at it. "At least I don't have to use a litter box, you flea-bitten furball."

The cat hissed at Gus again, and then rubbed against Mara.

After what seemed like the length of a really bad double feature, the man returned, brandishing the shiniest, thickest sword Mara had ever seen.

"This is for twinkle toes," he said.

Gus and Mara looked at each other.

"I think he means you," Gus said.

"I mean whichever one of you is stronger. It takes muscles to wield this baby." The man snorted.

Gus stepped up and took the sword, his arms dropping with the weight.

"This sword was specially forged to deal with demons like this one. It's got meteoric iron mixed into the silver in the blade and galena in the hilt. It will send any entity back down to the netherworld." The man cackled. "I expect it returned. Cleaned of any residue. You treat tools like this with respect."

"Yes, sir." Gus said.

The man melted back into the far room again. But it didn't take him as long to find Mara's weapon. He came back, holding it reverently.

"A wand?" she asked.

"No! Not just a wand!" He muttered, "Amateurs, always amateurs." He handed the crystal wand to Mara and said, "It's a collector. It vibrates at a higher frequency than you and I do. It will help you get the souls back from that freak show you got going back there and return them to your dimension. It's powerful, so don't point it at anybody. Now beat it! I wanna listen to Antiques Road Show." He plopped in the recliner and -- much to Gus's surprise -- turned on the television.