Witch Risen: A Paranormal Adventure (Bad Tom Series Book 2) (21 page)

Natalie pulls the Dodge into Dora's driveway. Gilly offers me the open mouth of her purse, but I flick my tail and give her slitty eyes from my comfortable spot on the backseat. There's nothing I'm going to learn at Dora's. Maybe if I was a were-poodle, I'd get into riding around in someone's purse, but nah. It's not for this cat. Way too confining. I'll sit this one out.

Fifteen minutes later, they hurry out, arm in arm, giggling like schoolgirls, and jump back into their respective seats.

Gilly tells her co-conspirator, "This would be awful if we actually meant to harm them, but since it's for a good cause, I guess it's okay to enjoy it. But, oh, I'd feel bad if this wasn't to keep them out of Anat's reach tonight."

Nat pulls the rearview her direction and touches up her bright red lipstick before putting it back. "You're such a goody two shoes. Lighten up. We'll be dead soon enough. Plenty of time to be boring then. Besides, you know as well as I do that this will protect them as much as it helps us—don't forget what Anat did to them the last time she enthralled them." She starts the car up and looks behind before she pulls out.

"Do you think we should have propped her up before she fell into the cupcakes? All that frosting is going to make quite a mess."

"Yes it is, dear!" Natalie howls with laughter again. It's infectious. Gillian joins her. They both laugh so hard and long that I'm afraid Natalie will land us in a ditch rather than get us back to headquarters.

When Robert opens the door to his back patio to let us in, his brow wrinkles as they both burst out laughing at his serious expression. "What's wrong with you? Did you get into the wine before you doctored it?"

"No, Robert, we're just tired of acting our age and decided to take a vacation from being fuddy-duddies. You should try it some time." Natalie gives him a slap on the backside as she passes by.

If I had a feather on me, I'd lob it at him to see if it knocks him over. But I don't have a feather, so I pad silently around him, figuring the cat's got his tongue right now every bit as much as it has mine.

Robert sets the contents of his brown bags out on the table top in a row for the other witches to inspect.

"I managed to get everything you asked for. I have to say, the shops in Salem don't carry the stock like they used to. Mostly ticky-tacky for the tourists these days. We've lucked out with Eunice running things here for so long. I had to visit four different places before I was able to pick up everything we need, and I wasn't sure I was going to find the asafetida powder." He hands a plastic bag to Gillian, who opens it and gives it a sniff.

"Goodness yes, that's nasty. Just the thing."

"Fortunately I asked, and one of the—what do they call them—gosh girls? The ones who wear black and want to date vampires? She said they had some they were saving for a regular customer, but she couldn't possibly let me have it. I managed to talk her out of the lot of it at a pretty price." Robert scowls when he hints at the overpayment. He may be wealthy, but I bet it doesn't sit well with his East Coast parsimony.

I buck up for what's coming next. "Well, I'm ready, then. Time to get into place, make me visible, and let the old mummy get me on her radar."

Gillian's face sobers. "You don't have to. We can figure something else out."

"Gillian, I admit it, I've never been more scared of anything, but that fear isn't going to make me run away from what I need to do this time." It feels very human to say that in front of these people who have earned my trust. They're not going to use it against me. Not even Nat. "The very thought of being caught and used again by that thing, whatever it is, terrifies me. But all I've wanted for over forty years is another chance to be a real man. And I'm not even close if I can't give everything I've got to save the girl who gave a home to my lost soul."

Gillian leans forward and pats my hand, giving me a sad smile. She doesn't say so, but she knows as well as I do that it's possible some of us might not survive this. I squeeze her hand tight. I want to say something more, but there aren't words for how I feel about her, about these people, my friends, right now.

Natalie turns away from the private moment, digging through the bags. "Robert, are there no bones? I need something light—a sparrow or some other smallish bird," she says when the silence continues too long.

"I've got a couple of cuts of meat we can get some segments of bone out of if you want to dig into our dinners for the week, but no bird." Robert walks to the big fridge and surveys its contents, shaking his head to confirm. "I'm not a poultry fan."

"Well, how does anyone expect me to accentuate Gillian's drawing spell if I haven't got anything in the mix to allow her spirit to soar toward the goddess as they come together?" Natalie huffs and puts her hands on her hips.

I stand up. Cat's fantasizing about running down one of those big, white turkeys at a farm on the edge of town to help her out, but I've got a more realistic idea he can put into action immediately. "Geez, Nat. Give a guy a chance before you get all bent out of shape."

I shift inconspicuously behind some bushes in Robert's immense back garden. Within minutes, Cat skims across the lawn, heading for the bushes in the back where the birds fight over the wild berries along the fence line.

I sink low on my haunches, my belly skimming just above the evenly trimmed grass and move forward one nearly imperceptible step at a time, my eyes never leaving my prey. When I spring, I catch a sparrow as it takes flight and trap it beneath a paw. Cat's neat teeth sink into its neck as the bird's luckier buddies escape.

I stop Cat from ripping the bird apart so he doesn't scatter the bones. He's not used to me refusing him his spoils, but I have to get the bird back to the house relatively intact.

I'm back into my jeans, shirt untucked, when I drop the carcass onto the counter. "Sparrows I can do. Anything bigger, and you can stop by the butcher's."

She snorts dismissively. "It's about time you contributed." She grabs a knife from a wooden storage block and hands it to me. "Debone that dear. And try to keep the bones as intact as possible if you could."

Nat's all business now, despite the dig about my contribution to the magical side of things.

It's time for us all to focus. No more daydreaming about turkey hunts or quibbling about bones.

We're going to war.

"You are seriously not making me drink that," I protest. Natalie uses a small kitchen strainer to dip out large chunks from the pot of vile-smelling sludge she's cooked up for me from some of the ingredients Robert bought. She's also mixed in a small glass of my own reluctantly supplied urine.

"It's disgusting, isn't it?" She grins. "We could try applying it to your skin like the last one. Probably wouldn't be effective, but it would be fun. Go ahead and strip down while I get into the right frame of mind." Her grin spreads even broader. So much for the all-business attitude when she's working with magic.

Gillian steps in, her voice raised a notch. "Nat, stop taunting him. How much of that does he have to drink?" How did my ex-wife end up being my mother?

"No need to get testy, dear. All in good fun. A little gallows humor, as they say. He doesn't need to drink much, and I still need to strain it before it's ready."

I put a hand on Gillian's shoulder. I know her. When she starts to snip, she's stressed. "You okay?"

"I'm just…I'm scared."

"We all are, I think." I massage her neck gently, working at the tense muscle there.

"But you could lose your freedom again."

"And you could end up possessed by a demon-goddess, despite your protestations that
the
Goddess is a good goddess and will protect you. So, neither one of us is looking at a rosy outcome if it all goes south."

She flashes me a half smile. "Suddenly, I'm feeling the kind of tired you get when your body decides to announce you're old and there's no going back. That kind of tired." She reaches up to pat my hand where I'm still kneading her shoulder.

I catch her hand and give a squeeze and lean in to plant a friendly kiss on her cheek. It perks her up, you can tell.

"Great wallowing warthogs, Gillian, do you have to suck up every bit of male attention in a room?" Natalie barks.

Gillian gives her a look I can't quite interpret as Natalie hands me a small jar that I slide into a pouch and affix to my collar.

I'd asked if I could meet them in the woods. I want to give Cat one last night on the prowl, just in case one or both of us doesn't make it. Then again, he's got two lives left, and I've only got the one: maybe he should be giving me a big last night out. I shift, and I'm out the door to bound over Robert's back fence, moving toward Corey Woods. It needs to be there, in the place of the Giles witches' power, that Anat discovers me. I hope we pull it off. If not…

I bat the thought away and focus instead on the musky smells to each side as I lope along. My ears swivel to each small sound that signals the movement of a mouse or mole through the rotted leaves below the trees.

As much as Cat is a predator, even he is aware he is also prey. There's always something bigger and stronger out there waiting to pounce. But a cat doesn't think deeply: he would never be aware of death stalking behind his left shoulder. As the poet once said, it's only man who has an angel's brain and sees the axe from the first.

Maybe I wouldn't mind so much if it was an axe: an axe is swift. But if it's a tether again…no, I can't think of that. And I can't think of Cassie jailed inside her body with no control of what it does, subject to the whims of the mad being who stole her life.

As much as I can't bear the thought of being put on a leash again, I'd sooner do it than leave Cassie trapped.

I kick it into higher gear. No distractions. One goal.

I'm going to put that demon down.

With Cat's night-vision superpower, I watch Robert, Natalie, and Gillian pick their way carefully through the woods on the old path. It hasn't been used by anyone except for a few hikers for years, and it's overgrown. There are places where it's nearly completely obscured by brush and a fallen tree or two. Another three members of the coven follow them. They're the only ones left who Anat has never enthralled. The rest should be sleeping soundly from the draughts they took either willingly or unwillingly. Nothing can be left to chance. Anat needs to be on her own for this one, and my merry band needs to have all their ducks in a row. I watch from a safe distance, ready to bolt and draw the demon away if she shows up too early.

The old stone altar is still in place. Rumors say the coven abandoned it in the twenties after an unfortunate incident in which a local warlock took things too far and sacrificed his second wife there in hopes of bringing back his first one. It was a spell that was unlikely to succeed as his first wife had been dead for several years. It did, however, result in the original coven grounds being tainted by bad zombie juju, and no one really wanted to return. But the ground is still consecrated to the goddess, and we need that. We also need a place Anat wouldn't think to look for us, and this one fills that bill.

Natalie removes the ribbon tie from around the cloth-wrapped object she carries and unrolls the cloth to reveal the ritual athame, and a wand with a phallus-shaped head. When Robert first whipped it out for the others to view at the house, Natalie chuckled a little too loudly for everyone's comfort. But Robert shut her down with a particularly high-priestly glare, telling her it was a sacred object, one not to be laughed at. He needs the special magic of the wand during the ritual if Gillian is to successfully draw the goddess down for a full possession of her body.

Eunice had ended the annual drawing ceremony when she became high priestess. She always insisted that the Goddess invested her at all times, which left no reason to draw her down on special occasions. In the current context, her assertion takes on new meaning. Yes, she was invested. Or more accurately, infested, with a goddess—just not Gillian's good and helpful one.

When we were planning, Gillian said she'd participated in the drawing ceremony a few times before Eunice brought it to an end. Robert and Natalie had been observers, but as atheists, they had never taken active roles. Gillian could make no promises about what would happen, but in the previous rituals, she had no doubt that the Goddess had passed through her. But those ceremonies had been communal events in which the participants had all been a little fried from earlier passing around a pipe full of non-magical herb. It was the sixties—even witches keep up with the times. Some later denied anything had happened. But Gillian believes it had. Saving Cassie absolutely depends on her belief.

The witches don their robes and stand quietly, waiting.

Natalie places the tools she needs on the altar so that they'll be enclosed in the casting of the circle. There are four candles—green, red, yellow, and blue to represent earth, fire, air, and water. She also places a bowl of water and a bowl of salt. Then she picks up the athame and begins.

Gillian, Robert, and the other coveners stand a short way off from the circle. She turns to them and says, "Let it be known that the circle is about to be cast. All who enter must do so in perfect love and perfect trust."