The Witchfinder Wars (22 page)

I was shaking as She released me. Taking my
wrist into Her hands, She brushed Her fingers over the burns that
had twisted my hand, making it whole again. The Goddess moved down
to my wrist and clasped Her palm over the tattered skin there. When
She removed it, my arm was as it had been. Healed.

Except for a single symbol marking me as Her
own.

You are mine as I am yours. This pain will
pass, Annie. We'll be with you.

I stared at the symbol, then up to Her as
the world pulled me away.

***

I don't know how long I stayed curled up on
the bathroom floor. I remember vague shadows of talking to someone,
muttering words and moans of pain as my mind wrapped itself around
what I had become.

A Chosen One. A true witch.

Something special.

Time has its own way of passing when you
can't see the sun, but when I finally regained the strength to sit
upright, my movements were jerky. Like a newborn fawn stumbling
away from its mother.

I looked around the room and I knew I needed
to eat. I went into the kitchen where I grabbed the first can of
food I could find. I opened it with a touch of my finger, pulling
back the melted tin, and eating like a savage.

Not that I cared. This was good enough for
now.

My stomach threatened to reject it; I
grabbed a glass and filled it with water, drank it. Then another,
when that one disappeared. This time, my stomach was calmer. My
strength was returning so I continued my search.

A single thud above my head broke through my
thoughts and my eyes narrowed. I flexed my hands, stopping to stare
at the one that should have sent the fiery spasms of pain through
my arm.

I had been healed. The skin pink and
new.

I recalled the Goddess, the river, the pain.
My arm turned easily enough and the truth of it all was
confirmed.

A small circle framed by two opposing
crescents shone on the skin as if it had always been there.

A second thud and the crinkling of glass
above my head turned my attention away from the scar and the anger
flowed through me.

They had returned. Evie said they would.

I slipped out the side door and hid in the
shadows as the two men who were searching the dry shed threw more
of the jars to the ground. The smell of the herbs was overpowering.
They worked in silence for a minute or so before the one closest to
me spoke up.

"John, I'm heading around to the back just
in case. If that witch is anywhere, we ain't gonna find her
here."

"Yeah. I don't want to report back we didn't
find her though. Go look. I'll be around in a minute."

I pressed my cheek against the kudzu as I
resisted the urge to pounce. The energy was flowing too fast, too
thick to withstand. It had to be released soon before I broke
against its power. I didn't have to wait long.

The man moved with the stealth I'd only seen
in movies as he turned the corner of the building. His eyes were
searching for something, anything to denote another living creature
nearby. I grabbed him.

The energy that had flowed through me before
exploded. He only had time to cry out once. The fire took him down
before he could make another sound. Reaching down, I pulled him
toward me as I waited for the other.

The one called John had heard the short
scream and acted out of instinct. Careless. When he saw me, he
skidded to a halt. The fear on his face was palpable. I must have
looked like a wild woman the moment I stepped out into the
moonlight.

"Oh, John," I said. "John, how could you
have been so stupid?"

The words came out in a purr as I launched
forward, knocking him to the ground and grabbing hold of his
throat. He was nothing more than ashes within seconds. The body of
his friend joined his as the wind picked up and blew their dust
beneath the layers of leaves surrounding me.

I was too new at this; tired too easily. I
forced myself to listen for any other movement. When I was
satisfied there was none, I returned to the security of the rooms.
I peeled off my clothes and collapsed on the bed as the anger left
me, and the horror of what I'd just done hit me full force.

I'd killed two people by the single touch of
my hands. I buried my face into the pillow, trying to rationalize
my actions. They would have killed me instead. Or taken me away.
They were responsible for Evie's death. I clung to these excuses,
but I knew better.

I knew that now, I was no better than the
witchfinders. I'd murdered two people. Took them away from their
families.

Goddess help me...

I let my thoughts return to Tommy with hopes
to dispel the self-hatred washing over me; no matter how much it
hurt to think of him. No matter what else had happened that night.
He was there, still in the back of my mind as if the spell hadn't
worked.

As if he were still bound to me.

Yet I knew this wasn't the case; it had been
proven when he failed to show up at the pond. Perhaps goodbyes are
easier that way. A clean break instead of a long drawn out tirade
of spent emotions.

But I wanted him. No matter how bad I was
for him.

I groaned against the pillow where my face
was buried as I made a wish I had no right to make.

For Tommy to be mine. No matter what the
cost.

It wasn't until my energy returned that I
forced Tommy to the back of my mind so I could complete my search
of the apartment.

First, a bath cleared my mind before I went
to the armoire. The clothes in it matched the décor and I smiled at
the thought of Evie and Ivy forgetting to restock this thing with
anything new. It had been inconsequential to them. I grabbed a
shirt and threw it on; it fell to my knees. After a few minutes of
tugging and tucking, I managed to tie it up around my waist.

Pants were harder to find. They were all for
men. I sighed as I pulled out the only thing that would fit me. It
was a black cloth skirt that filled out to flutter around my
knees.

I hated skirts. But it would have to do
until I could get more clothes.

My other ones were shot.

The band I had saved from Evie, I tied
around my wrist to hide the mark. An essential accessory if I was
ever going to leave this place again.

My hair was hopeless. I let it hang loose
until it dried. I'd figure out what to do with it then.

It seemed miniscule, but these daily rituals
were making me pretend at least some things would never change. I
clung to them as I went to the kitchen and cooked, sitting on the
couch to eat.

Clean up was easy. I burned what wasn't
needed in the sink. The kitchen I scrubbed down until it was as
spotless as before.

Time and time again, my hand kept searching
for the stone at my neck. This physical reminder was all I had left
of my family aside from the leather band. I forced myself up and
over to the safe to see what other treasures it would hold before I
started crying again. I knew the sudden emotions would stop soon.
But I couldn't stand being so unsteady.

Evie had left it unlocked the other day.
Thanks be to the gods. I don't think even I could have gotten into
it without her thoughtlessness.

The inside was stuffed with bills wrapped in
small stacks. A small black book lay on top of them. I didn't care
enough to explore any further. It was just good to know I had
enough if I needed it.

He's here
.

The Goddess spoke to me as I gasped. Turning
quickly, I moved through the small space and out the door to rush
across the field.

I wasn't alone after all.

Tommy had come back.

He's here.

Chapter
Fourteen

Tommy

"Tommy? Tommy, honey?"

A soft hand stroked my forehead. I could
smell something sharp and medicinal, alcohol or an antiseptic. I
wondered who was sick.

"Tommy? Drink this."

Just like in a book or a movie, I thought in
a daze. That's what they always say. Drink this.

I took a sip of something cold and choked.
It was nasty, and it ran down my throat like a bitter river. I sat
up and shook my head, then wished at once I'd left it still and
down on the pillow. Something exploded behind my forehead and I
fell back down. Someone groaned, and I'm pretty sure it was me.

"Well, I hope you're satisfied!" a voice
snapped.

I hoped I wasn't expected to be satisfied
because I without a doubt was not; far from it. My head hurt, my
chest ached, and I could smell smoke.

Smoke.

Fire.

Anya!

I sat up again, ignoring the pain. But as
confused as I was, hurting as I was, I wasn't dumb enough to say
anything about Anya, not out loud.

Then I thought. What did it matter, anyway?
I saw her run into a burning house. She was dead; she had to be
dead.

And Clay—my uncle—had killed her, as surely
as if he'd taken a knife to her throat.

But I was still alive and, as far as I knew,
so was Anya's mother, Ivy. And I was going to make damn sure Ivy
was okay.

Then Clay was going to pay, and so was his
creepy son Kinsey, and so was everything and everyone else
involved, however long it took me.

I looked around, blinking, trying to make
things out through the fog that had settled over me.

Finally, I was able to tell where I was; in
my own bed, in my own room, in our big Victorian on Clarke
Street.

Grand sat beside my bed in my desk chair,
our maid Sally standing beside her. Sally had a bottle in one hand
and a glass with traces of some thick red stuff in the other. Grand
had a shallow bowl in her lap; the cloth that hung over its side
was dark with soot.

Grand did not look happy. In fact, I'd go so
far as to say Grand was seriously and incontrovertibly pissed to
the max.

At the foot of my bed stood Clay. He held
his usual cigar; he kept rolling it around and passing it from one
hand to the other, but he hadn't dared light it in Grand's
presence. For such a small woman, she sure can make her wishes
known. And he looked awful damn uneasy too.

Just wait, I thought. Uneasy is what you'll
be begging for soon.

"Tommy, honey, how do you feel?" Grand asked
as she set the bowl on the bedside table. She took my hand and felt
my wrist, made her little
tch-tch
sound I'd heard a million
times, and then patted me on the arm. "Don't worry, dear. There's
no sign of concussion, the doctor said. Just a bad knock on the
head. You'll be a little sore for a few days, and he had to cut
your hair to stitch up the cut, but it'll grow back." She stood up
and turned on Clay.

And I do mean turned on him. She looked like
an angry grey kitten spitting up at a big clumsy dog.

"Esmund Clayborne Hopkins," she said in that
low soft tone that meant nothing but trouble. "What exactly do you
mean, taking Tommy out on a raid?"

Wait a minute. Raid? What did Grand know
about raids?

"His first one and you let him stumble into
that mess and get hurt. Well, let me tell you this, Clay—"

And she proceeded to tell him this and that
and quite a bit of the other, none of it pleasant, using words I
didn't know Grand knew. And as she talked, her accent got more and
more southern, sounding so like Anya's aunt that my heart tore open
inside me and I fell back against my pillow. My head exploded and I
groaned, I didn't know from pain or grief or both.

Grand finally ran down, after she'd backed
Clay up against the opposite wall between the dresser and the door
to my bathroom. He had flushed an angry red but he kept his mouth
shut during her tirade. I was surprised he had so much
self-control, to be honest.

"Now get out of my grandson's room, and
don't show your face again until he asks to see it. Are we
clear?"

"Crystal clear, Mother." Clay waited until
she'd turned away before he dared to move. He stalked to the door
and paused, his hand on the knob as he looked at me. "Tommy, I'll
be away for a few days. I'll keep a check on you. Have someone get
in touch with me if I can do anything, anything at all. All right?"
He finished up with a weak little grin, then pulled the door to
gently behind him.

"Man," I said as I eyed Grand in admiration,
"you are amazing, you know that?"

Grand grinned at me, but I could tell she
was still pissed. "Clay has always been like that, ever since he
was a little boy. He's all talk. Sally, could you go down and ask
Brent if he'd make Tommy some lemonade, please? I'm sure he'd like
something to get the taste of the medicine out of his mouth."

"Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Hopkins." Sally gathered
up the bowl and stuff and disappeared in her silent way I'd always
admired.

"Now, young man," Grand said. She sat back
down in the hard chair beside my bed and smoothed her skirt over
her knees the way she always does. "Tell me everything that
happened, and exactly how you ended up unconscious, with a bloody
knot on your head half the size of Texas, and smelling like a
bonfire."

Bonfire.

Anya.

"Grand, I..." I choked up. I could feel
tears fighting to come out, but I didn't dare let them. I knew if I
did, I might not ever be able to stop.

But even while I was hurting so bad, there
was that same strange feeling inside, one that told me things were
better than I thought, better than I could hope.

But how could they be? I saw her. I saw Anya
run into a burning building and disappear.

I opened my mouth and said, "My girlfriend
died, Grand. And she didn't even know she was my girlfriend. Funny
thing, too. Neither did I."

"Oh, honey." Grand's beautiful face filled
with pain, and it was all for me, I knew. "I am so sorry. I knew
something like this was going to happen, but I was hoping it
wouldn't be for a long, long time. Usually the curse doesn't even
begin to take effect until the Matthew is in his early twenties.
You're a remarkable boy, you know that?"