Bitch Witch (25 page)

“Because if there was a pre-existing medical condition—”

“There definitely was a pre-existing condition.”

“I see. I don’t know Ms. Archer well, but now that I think on it there was another incident where she came to work acting rather oddly. It was just a matter of a strange choice in clothing for the workplace, but from what I heard at the time it was unusual for her. I’m glad we had this conversation. I’m going to take care of this.”

Sarah groaned inside at the memory of the blue dress she’d thought she looked so hot in, but something in her lightened knowing Paul had gotten her job back for her.

“That would be great. Sarah loves working at Mass Power and Light.”

“Does she?” Sarah could hear the smile in Jackie’s voice. “I do too. Well, I’ll do my part for her. You make sure she gets all better now. We’ve got to get going. I’ve stayed far longer than I planned.”

“Thanks for coming, and thanks for the flowers. Sarah loves flowers.”

“One of her co-workers has been taking up a collection for them every week. I’ve never seen this many flowers anywhere outside of a florist shop.”

What?
Sarah tried to force her eyes open, desperate to see them.
Dammit! The one time I get flowers from other people!
Inwardly she grinned, falling a bit more deeply in love with Mindy.
That booger is such a liar! If there’s that many, she’s spending her own money too!

Dark matter grabbed Sarah somewhere around her middle and yanked her away.

“UT CUSTODIANT TE
et seducam te et Dominum nostrum Iesum Christum in vitam aeternam.
”

The droning words in Latin roused Sarah. Dark matter rocked as though laughing. Even barely conscious, she recognized the monotone chant of a priest.
It lulls me back to sleep even now.

“What are you doing to her?” Paul asked. He sounded tired.

“It’s the Viaticum,” answered an old man. Sarah tried to place his vaguely familiar voice.

“What’s the Vita—viata—what’s that?”

Paul’s accent made Sarah smile inside as she attempted a translation of the Latin word “viaticum.”
Money for a journey? Something like that…money for provisions?

“It’s commonly called the last rites.”

Oh, great! No!

“Isn’t that for when people die? Don’t do that to her. You said you were going to pray over her. She’s not going to die.”

“Son, just because I speak the words doesn’t mean she won’t live. That’s in God’s hands.”

Why is his voice so familiar?
All the priests from Our Lady of the Light sounded the same to Sarah.

“But if she hears you, she might believe you. She probably understands Latin. Don’t say that prayer just in case.”

The priest sighed. “What did you have in mind when you called me?”

What the hell did Paul call a priest for?

“I don’t know. Except—do priests really perform exorcisms?”

Don’t you dare!
Sarah tried to move, but her body wouldn’t respond. The rumbling of dark matter increased. It felt like glee.

“Not on witches, Mr. Longfellow. It wouldn’t be a good idea, and I’m not altogether certain there’d be anything left of your friend after I was done.”

It’s Father McCloud! Thank heavens!
She recalled the knowing look in his faded eyes.

“You know she’s a witch?”

“Yes, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Sarah once before.”

“You did?” Paul sounded incredulous.

“Yes, I did. As I recall she owes me a shingle.”

“Oh, um. Yes. I’m sorry, I’d forgotten about that.”

“I hadn’t.”

“Father, can you tell if she’s going to be all right?”

Sarah thought she heard the priest move closer to Paul and pat his shoulder.

“Paul, I’m a priest, not a doctor. What do the doctors say?”

“Doctor Shaw tells me not to give up hope. She says miracles happen all the time.”

“I would encourage you to follow her advice.”

“It’s been a month now. Look at her.”

A month? I’ve been in the hospital for a month?
It seemed like moments.

“What’s a month to a young life?”

“Can you tell—I mean, do you think the dark side has taken her?”

“That’s her decision, not yours or mine or even the other side’s,” said Father McCloud. “Likely she was promised to the darkness before conception. It’s hard for human beings not to do what’s expected of them, even when they don’t like it.”

“She doesn’t want to be a witch.”

“That’s ridiculous. She is a witch. I don’t want to be old. But here we both are.”

“So there’s no hope? She’s doomed to evil?”

“I didn’t say that. Of course there’s hope! There’s always hope.”

“But what can we do? How can I help her?”

“You’re doing it, Mr. Paul Revere. Just don’t give up. I’m afraid the rest is up to Sarah.”

T
he harvest moon lolled fat in the sky and October air blew leaves through the night. Sarah couldn’t see it, she couldn’t see anything, but she could feel it with her witch senses. It was the first thing she’d sensed with them since the night Kathleen had showed up at her door. According to the moon, that was six weeks ago.

Dark matter wrapped around Sarah like Smaug snuggling gold in his lair. Yet for the first time since that night, Sarah could distinguish between herself and dark matter.

That has got to be a good thing, a good sign!

Dark matter shifted, like an enormous snake wrapping tighter, its scales rippling over Sarah’s skin. After several moments it stopped and sighed, as if content and comfortable.

That, not so much.

What did Father McCloud say?

“I’m afraid the rest is up to Sarah,” echoed through her mind.

That’s not very helpful. What exactly is up to me?

Explicit instructions would have been useful. Sarah knew instinctively how to draw dark matter closer; repelling it didn’t come naturally. For the past three years all she’d done was ignore it and try to leave it alone.

The piles of books in the attic came to mind, but she knew they’d be of no use even if she could access them now.

Still, I know how to draw dark matter in. Logically, what would chase it away?

I could tell it to go.
Sarah considered that for a while. Outside her body she could hear the beeping of that machine and the mechanical hiss of her breathing.
And
I can’t just do nothing. I have to try something!

Maybe it is as simple as telling it to go away and leave me alone.

Maybe I’ve been keeping dark matter nearby just in case I need it, like the crap in the basement.

Maybe that’s all Father McCloud meant when he said it was up to me.

Maybe Paul was right when he said I have to find other ways to get what I need.

Permanently.

Could it be as easy as a choice?

The memory of the night she’d rescinded her spell against Kathleen returned.

Other than a few brief moments of lucidity when she could hear what was happening in the outside world, all she’d been aware of had been pain.

There was pain, and then there was dark matter fiery
pain
.

Sarah did not fancy another go of what had already transpired. There would be nothing easy about another battle against dark matter and likely it would all be for nothing. She doubted she could survive it again.
It always wins.
All witches said that.
Why did I think I could be any different?

Somewhere near the hissing machine, a voice whispered. “Sarah, sweetheart, if you can hear me, do something. Do
anything.
”

Fear vibrated through her, followed by what felt like dark matter licking her entire body with a massive tongue. For once that wasn’t a pleasant sensation. It scared her. She wanted it to go away.

If Paul is calling me sweetheart, I’m in trouble.

I’m dying.

I’m really dying. Dark matter is just waiting for me.

Sarah knew it. She hadn’t been privy to anything the doctor had said for a while, but judging by the moon it had been about six weeks since the incident.

The thought of telling dark matter to go frightened her.
It’s not the pain I’m really afraid of. I’m afraid it will really go away.

What would she be without dark matter?

What was a witch with no power?

She’d have no defense against the world.
Like everyone else.

I have two choices. Die with it, or live without it.

Do I want to die and join it?

“Go,”
Sarah said mentally.

Nothing happened.

“Go,”
she repeated inside herself, struggling to find real words, certain that dark matter slept around her, content and confident it had her.
“I don’t want you! I’m never going to want you again! I don’t care what happens to me. I can survive without you!”

Or not.

Still nothing happened.

Gathering every ounce of strength she could muster, Sarah attempted to shout. It came out a weak breath of stale air as she choked on a tube lodged inside her throat, “Go.”

Like a waking volcano, dark matter exploded to life around her. In the midst of being consumed by fiery hot lava, Sarah heard Paul shouting for a doctor.
He heard me!
A mental image of her ears floating and sizzling in a field of molten rock and magma came to mind, and once again darkness descended.