The Sins of Our Fathers, page 10
Gisel hadn’t come into my room to sleep. Her presence was going to steal every moment of rest I’d ever hope to have again.
Two days after that conversation, Isaiah returned to Alloway. I wasn’t comfortable with him leaving. At least no more so than I was with him staying. The town of Auburn was our haven, and we’d bring whoever we needed into it to protect them.
We went through the motions of the second Saturday in October. The girls had their final SAT prep class and were up and out of the house early. They returned home exhausted, starving, and thrilled to be free of the “timed torture,” as they referred to it. The stress was taking a toll on Ever. She was wilting before my eyes. She didn’t want to talk about anything, but in saying nothing, she increased my level of concern.
“Tonight is the Goddess Gala,” Lovie told them.
“What’s that?” Gwen asked.
“You’ll love it. It’s beautifully bizarre and educational and somehow makes sense of what we are,” Maya told her.
“Then I will love it.”
My full coven had only been once before when our mothers took us as teenagers. We’d go every year from now on as long as Tara Jane and the other Kingsway witches would have us. We flew to Mullica Hill. It seemed fitting that instead of fitting all eight of us into the minivan somehow, we should fly, eight strong, to a party celebrating witchcraft. We landed in the backyard and all the women standing near turned in our direction before we even showed ourselves.
“Lovie,” Riley said and ran across the lawn to hug her. The rest of the Kingsway Coven gathered to greet us. They made lifelong friendships look easy. Gisel and Tara Jane moved closer to the fire. Two Earth witches reunited after all these years apart.
“Mom,” Ever called to me. She was standing next to Gwen, who was bent at the knees, gripping her head between her hands.
“What is it?” I asked as I leaned over and put my hand on her back. “Gwen, what’s wrong?”
“The voices,” she said. She raised her head up for a moment, inhaled sharply, and returned to hiding it in her arms. “There are too many.”
I looked around for Sloane or Gisel. With my arm around Gwen, I led her back from the fire. Sloane was by the back door. I called to her, but she was deep in a conversation with Maryann. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Let her go,” the elderly witch we’d sought help from a year ago demanded as she stood over both of us. Her eyes were fixed on Gwen.
I stepped back. The woman held both hands up in front of her with her palms facing Gwen. Gisel, I screamed in my head. Everyone at the party stopped and stared at the old witch bent over Gwen. Gisel ran toward us with Sloane and Lovie behind her.
“Don’t be afraid, sweet child. They talk to you because your heart is pure. They need you.” I had no idea what she was talking about, but Gwen calmed in front of my eyes. “There are many here tonight. They’ve come for you. They’re tired of talking to me.”
Gwen looked up, her eyes heavy with pain. “Too many,” she said breathlessly.
“Silence,” the witch ordered, but no one around us was speaking.
Gwen stood straight. Her breaths were heavy for a long minute before they returned to normal. She appeared exhausted. “Thank you,” she said.
The woman took her hand. “Like all gifts, you must learn to control it.” Gwen nodded. “You can make them stop talking, at least to you, by telling them to silence.” The “them” she referred to wasn’t us, which could only mean one thing. “And you can share their voices.”
Gwen’s attention shifted around the yard before landing back on the woman. “How?”
The elderly witch waved me closer and took Gwen’s hand. “Hold her hand,” she said to me. I did as I was told. “I’m going to give their voices to you, and then, as if you’re pushing them down a pipe, you’ll share them with her,” she said to Gwen. “They won’t be as powerful when you receive them because they’re coming through me.”
Gwen seemed to brace herself as she nodded her acceptance to the old witch. She closed her eyes and jolted while the witch kept her focus on her. She never took her eyes off her, and neither did I. “Now send it. Share it. Open your mind and let your aunt hear.”
My mind filled with voices. Each of them was calling out to the elderly witch. Asking her to listen. Some had information to share and others had loved ones they wanted messages delivered to. Most of all, they just wanted to talk. It was chaotic and overwhelming and I wanted to hold my own head in my hands the same way Gwen had done when we first landed in the backyard.
“I’m going to let go now,” the elder woman said.
The voices shifted and called out to Gwen. The volume increased. I made out, “It’s Mimi,” but there was little else I could decipher.
“Silence!” Gwen shouted, and her mind cleared. She opened her eyes and stared at me. I didn’t let go of her hand.
“She’s a bridge,” the elderly witch proclaimed.
Gasps, cheers, the chaos in Gwen’s mind was replaced by the crowd around her. She squeezed my hand.
“It’s okay,” I said, but I didn’t know what any of it meant.
Gisel wrapped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and pulled her tight against her. “I should have known. I thought it was just Mama, and that she was being stubborn not talking to me, but only Gwen could hear her.”
“How often do you hear them?” the elderly woman asked Gwen.
“I’ve never heard anything like tonight. Sometimes I hear things, and I don’t know why, or who, or what it even is.”
“They’re all the departed trying to reach you.”
“Why me?”
“Why any of us.” The witch waved her hands around, taking in the entire backyard where some witches were floating in the air. “Any of this?”
“Let me spend some time with her.” The elderly witch directed to Gisel. “I’ll teach her what I can.”
“We’ll go with you,” Ruby said.
The elderly witch scrutinized each of the girls as they moved forward and stood next to Gwen. She smiled back at us as she recognized them. “Very good,” she said, and the five of them went into the house.
“A bridge, that’s amazing,” Maryann said.
“Do you have a bridge among your girls?” I asked.
“Not that we know of.” Their daughters, the next generation of coven were still young. The night we’d been to South Harrison, Amelia’s baby blanket still lay at the top of her bed. A last memento that moved from a crib to a big girl bed.
“How old are your daughters now?” I asked.
“They’re ten. God help us. We’re praying to make it through the next ten years.”
The memories of trying to keep Ever away from Ike the year before plucked at my mind. “I’ll say a prayer for you, too. It isn’t pretty.”
“Have they decided what they’ll do next year?”
“No,” Sloane said. “They’re all over the place with possible colleges.”
“How will you deal with them being out on their own?”
“I’m not sure they won’t be safer away from here than they are with us,” Sloane said, bringing up the subject we needed to talk to them about.
“We heard about your ex,” Maryann directed at me and then tilted her head to Gisel.
“Is there anything that isn’t heard around here?” Gisel asked.
“It’d be scarier if there were.”
We followed Maryann to the patio furniture out back and each took a seat.
“The Virago hurt him,” Tara Jane said.
“Whoever it was told him to deliver the message for us to leave.”
“That’s what we heard.”
Sloane rolled her eyes. She’d had years in Las Vegas to forget how quickly information was disseminated in our small towns.
“We’ve been on high alert ourselves. After you left, this area became a stomping ground for exiled witches. I wish there were a way to find exactly how many and who they are. They have no regard for this area or the people in it.”
“Like Maryann’s house,” Tara Jane said. “Even ten years ago, they would have been too scared to go near her. Their numbers increasing have given them courage, and now, they want freedom to do whatever they want.” She tapped her fingers on the side of her glass. “They’re completely out of control. Some of them have lived a long time like this. They don’t remember what it was like to be civilized.”
“How can we stop them?” Lovie asked. “If we’re not willing to sink to their level.”
“They’re forcing me very close to being exactly like them.” Gisel’s words hung on the darkness in her voice. Considering consequences and planning were not her forte.
The enemy of the Virago would have to be like them to defeat them. I practically whispered as I thought aloud, “It would be best if they would somehow destroy each other.”
“It would be perfect.” Tara Jane sat back in her seat and pondered the idea.
The dagger in Amelia’s pillow. The hole in Isaiah’s head . . . I didn’t know how we were going to evict the Virago from South Jersey, but attempting to inflict the greater torture was a dangerous way to proceed. Their evil had no bounds, and they felt they had much less to lose.
“We’re having a Halloween party this year and would love you all to come,” Lovie said, drawing us to a lighter topic.
“With dates?” Tara Jane asked.
“Yes. Not that we’ll have any, but please bring whoever you’d like,” Sloane offered.
“I actually have someone in mind for you,” Jennifer said to Sloane.
“Me?”
“My cousin, Sean Watts. His wife just left him, and he always had a crush on you in high school.”
“Why’d she leave him?” Sloane was skeptical.
“I didn’t ask. We just put a spell on her that she’d sweat profusely from her feet whenever she kissed someone other than Sean.”
“I’m not sure I should get involved with a relative of yours.”
“Nonsense,” Jennifer said. She peaked into Sloane’s cup. “I’ll get you more wine.”
“I’m still not going out with him. When I leave him, and I will, you’ll make me smell or something.”
“That isn’t true. We never liked this one. I told him a hundred times to move on, but men never listen.”
I WAS DRESSED as the Wicked Witch of the West and Sloane was Glenda. She was ironically lovely and sweet in her blue sparkle ball gown. None of us could stop laughing at the wand. Where did that prop come from in the story of witches? We invited everyone we could remember from high school, the few people we’d met since we moved home, Gisel and Isaiah’s friends, a few of the girls’ classmates, the Kingsway Coven, and the entire town of Auburn. A good Halloween party needed a lot of people, and ours met that one criteria.
Sean Watts was dressed as a fireman, making it hard for Sloane to ignore him. They were sitting on the couch together talking about the nights my coven had flown to the county above ours to party with the Kingsway witches in high school.
Maya dressed Carl in a shark costume, which he hated. Ever told her after twenty minutes she was springing him. I had to admit that it was impossible not to laugh as the dog slash shark made his way through the crowd. Lovie had set up a corner of the room as a photo booth. She’d left a box with oversized sunglasses, feathered boas, crowns, and conversation bubbles attached to sticks for everyone to use. She also painted an old frame to be held up in their pictures. It was a popular attraction. Guests took an abundance of pictures, picking their favorites and posting them online while the party was still in full swing.
The Stormtrooper in the corner of the kitchen, sipping scotch through a straw into his helmet, caught my eye. More like the outline of his shoulders drew me in and reminded me of my favorite invisible friend.
“Lovely night,” I said as I approached him.
“Yes.” His voice was unmistakable. “Would you like to check out the fire?”
Without a word in agreement, I walked out of the kitchen, knowing he would follow. The fire was surrounded by people so I chatted on about grabbing some more wood as he followed me to the tree line without anyone caring where we were going.
“You shouldn’t come to parties you’re not invited to.”
“I thought you told me once that I’m always welcome.”
I shook my head while I smiled at him. “No. I never said that. Perhaps you’re hearing voices in your head.” He chuckled. “What’s so funny about that?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m glad you’re here, though. I need your help.”
His helmet tilted to the side. “Anything.”
“With the Virago.”
His shoulders slumped. “Why can’t you just leave them alone?”
“They stuck something in Isaiah’s head.” I remembered where I was and lowered my voice as I stepped closer to him. “That’s why. It isn’t safe here. For anyone.”
Xavier exhaled loudly. I frustrated him. It wasn’t my intention, but I needed his help.
“What do you need?”
“Information. I need to know how they’re organized. Who is in charge? If they have a means of communicating.”
“Planning on joining?”
“You’re cute.”
He moved closer to me and took the split wood from my arms. He leaned down until I could see his lips through the hole in his mask. “Am I?” he asked, and suddenly it was difficult to breathe. “How about I meet you in your room after the party?”
Isaiah and half of Salem County would be sleeping over. There was a chance Gisel could end up in my bed. Or Sloane. Or Lovie . . . I didn’t let myself think of the other scenarios.
“Come away with me right now.” he said and sounded almost desperate.
“To where?”
There was a long pause. He didn’t know, either. Where exactly could a Stormtrooper take the wicked witch? “I know a spot. Bring a pen and some paper. Meet me back here in ten minutes. If that’s all right.”
“Okay.”
I told Lovie I was going out to get some air and that there was nothing to worry about. She looked worried, of course, but Sloane wouldn’t have believed me, and Gisel would have somehow tagged along.
I pulled the first notebook I could find out of Ever’s backpack, which sat on the bench in the mudroom. I unzipped the front pocket and reached around until I found a pen. I hooked it on top of the notebook and disappeared into the shadows before flying out the back door. I landed exactly where Xavier and I had been moments before.
He was there. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was near me. I felt the exhilaration of his presence. “I’m here,” I said, and he reached out, fumbled around my waist and side, and took my hand. “Anything crazy in the skies tonight?”
“The Virago loves to party on Halloween as much as anyone else does. We should be fine since it’s the Saturday night before the holiday. I’m sure they have their own affairs.”
Xavier held my hand until we reached Marlton Park. “Let’s land here,” he said. We stayed invisible next to the concession stand. The lock on the door clicked. The door opened only a few inches, and we slipped inside before Xavier closed the door behind us. I listened to the lock click into place again.
“We’re trapped,” I whispered.
He appeared. It was dark except for a few cracks that let in light from the lamppost by the sidewalk. I held my breath as he reached up and removed his helmet. He disappeared just before his face was revealed.
“I thought you were going to show yourself.”
“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”
“Exactly.” I didn’t let myself wallow in the disappointment. I let Xavier see me. I thought setting an example might move him. I hopped up on the table in front of the large wood-covered service window. I assumed Xavier was standing somewhere near me since I hadn’t felt him get up on the table.
“I’m right here,” he said and took my hand. He was directly in front of me. My legs spread as he moved between them.
“Yes,” was the only word that came out of my mouth.
“What do you need to know?” he asked. The sound of his voice caressed my neck until I dipped my head on one side to stop the sensation that was traveling down my shoulder. I couldn’t think with him this close. “About the Virago.” He helped me remember.
“Can you step back?”
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
I inhaled his closeness. “Yes, but not in a bad way. I just need to think.” He let go of my hand. His body was missing from between my legs, and I could formulate a question. “Are they organized?”
“They have a governing body and meetings, but I’m not sure I’d describe them as organized.” His voice came from across the tiny room. “There are always five women in charge. They are supposed to represent original covens born in this area, but there is tremendous infighting, collusion, trickery. I’m never sure who will be in charge next.”
“Are attacks random or planned out?”
“Both.”
“If something is planned, does the entire Virago ever participate? Do they have to approve it?”
“You’re giving them too much credit. Imagine a group of women who hate each other, every other woman, and themselves, trying to work together. They couldn’t plan a bake sale, let alone an organized attack.” I took notes as he spoke. The paper shifted from a pale white that I could barely see to a deep black that was almost invisible in the darkness. The pen’s ink turned to silver and lit up the page as I wrote. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t put their differences aside for a common goal once in a while.”
“Have they ever been defeated?”
“They’ve never even been challenged until you moved home. They outnumber the witches who belong to covens. At least in Salem County. Their numbers are growing. Women are apparently going through a period of discourse rather than unity.” I kept writing. “They have an Instagram account they use to share information. The pictures are usually of terrain around the area with a caption only they can understand. It denotes a target, and if anyone is available and interested in participating, they do.”
