A Witch's Tale (9 page)

“I hope you will be joining us for dinner to
night,” she said
after showing Mac to his room.
“Naomi has planned something special in celebration of Myra’s freedom.
I guarantee you a good meal.
All of the sisters of the coven will be here.”

“I’d be delighted,” Mac replied with his most charming smile.
Years of practic
e enabled him to conceal the extent of pleasure the invitation gave him.
Oh, yes, he would be only too happy to spend an evening in the company of the infamous Port
Bellmont
witches!

“And you mustn’t worry about being the only man in a house full of woman.
Alan
Boatright
, the publisher of our local newspaper, will be here too.
I’m sure you’ll enjoy meeting him, if you haven’t already.
He’s a most charming man and it’s no secret that he’s thoroughly enraptured with Myra.”

That particular bit of local gossip came as no surprise to Mac.
Hadn’t he wondered why the man was so r
eady to assume Myra’s innocence
when nearly everyone else in town was convinced of her guilt?

“So they’re a twosome, are they?
I can certainly see how a man could be attracted to a woman like Myra.
She’s a fascinating woman.”

“Oh, he’s attracted all right b
ut I don’t believe the feelings are quite as strong on Myra’s side.
She’s been widowed for years and she’s very reluctant to allow herself to fall in love again.
She suffered too dearly when her husband failed to
return from Vietnam.
No, I’m afraid the love affair is strictly one sided.”

Mac couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy.
A woman like Myra could drive
a man nuts
if he let her get under his skin.
But then
,
who knew, maybe Alan would be able to break down the wall she had built around her heart.

*  *  *

Why couldn’t she relax and enjoy the evening like
everyone else, Cassie wondered.
The meal had b
een nothing short of perfection, s
he was surrounded by people she could trust - her Wiccan sisters, Mac, a man she found particularly attractive, and Alan, an old family friend who was ob
viously in love with her mother - a
nd they had gathered together to celebrate something wonderful, Myra’s freedom.

But no matter how hard she tried to relax and join in the festivities, Cassie’s sense of disquiet continued to build.
Something was wrong.
Something was terribly wrong.

Walt Whitaker’s face flashed into her mind, the scowl that had become so familiar firmly in place.
Why does he hate us so much?
she
wonde
red.
It was a question she had found
herself asking more and more lately.
It troubled her so much that she had actually tried to enter his mind to discover the answer, something she was usually loath to do.
But she had found herself blocked from his thoughts.

Frustrated and a little ashamed of herself for attempting to invade his privacy, she vowed to never try it again.

And yet she still wondered.

”A toast!”
Alan stood, champagne glass held aloft.
He turned his gaze to Myra
who sat on the dusty rose settee he had just left.
The devotion that glowed in his eyes was so intense it was close to heartbreaking.
“To Myra, the most perfect woman I’ve ever known.
May she always be
free.
”

Cassie’s eyes misted.
Alan’s love
for her mother was so beautiful; w
hat a pity it wasn’t returned in full.
S
till, love couldn’t be forced.
It wasn’t her mother’s fault that all she felt for the man was friendship.

There was that sensation again!
Cassie rubbed her arms as a chill raced over her skin.
The rhythm of her heart accelerated.

What was wrong?

She let her gaze roam from one face to another, hoping to read something there that would alleviate the tension she
felt building within her.
Naomi
wore the glow of having successfully prepared an excellent meal for her friends.
Edith, Mary Beth and Shelly were chatting amiably together.

True to form, Mac sat quietly off to the side, taking in everything that was said, observing every change of expression.

The unpleasant chill eased a bit at the sight of him
, being
just as suddenly replaced by a flow of warmth.
As she gazed at
him, her eyes lingering on his lips, then sliding down to the broad expanse of his chest, she could feel a delicious heat seeping deep into her body.
She gloried in the slightest change in his expression, was fascinated in what she read in his eyes.

He was so intent o
n absorbing every nuance of conversation, she was sure he was totally unaware that he had reached down to scratch
Sarge
behind one ear.
Suppressing a smile at the adoring expression on the puppy’s
uptilted
face, she was certain that neither man nor dog had any idea of the adorable picture they made.

As if he felt her eyes on him, Mac shifted his gaze to her, tr
apping her thoughts for a heart-
stopping instant.

She glanced away quickly, fearful he might read more in her eyes than she was prepared to reveal.
Maybe that was it.
Maybe the sickening fear that gnawed away at her was the fear of becoming emotionally involved with such a man.
There would be danger for any woman who allowed
herself
to fall in love with him.
Did she dare to tempt such danger?
But the more honest question was
,
did she have a choice?

Instinctively, she raised her eyes to her mother.
Myra had always been so full of wisdom, guiding her daughter through all the pitfalls of life with her down-to-earth common sense.
But this time Cassie was not comforted by her mother’s presence.
One glance at the face she knew so well confirmed her earlier fears.
It didn’t take a mind reader to realize that Myra was not well.

Before Cassie could speak, Myra rose to her feet.
Reaching over to give first Naomi and then Mary Beth a quick hug, she began to bid her farewells.

“Please don’t l
et me put a damper on the party
but I’ve suddenly developed the worst headache.”

Before the words were out of Myra’s mouth, Alan leaped to his feet, an expression of alarm on his face.

“You’re sick.
I knew it!
I knew you weren’t ready to celebrate after all you’ve been through.”

The distress in his voice touched Cassie’s heart.
He was so devoted to her mother.
What a pity it was that Myra could see him only as a friend when he clearly wanted to be so much more to her.

“I’m taking you straight home.
You need a good night’s rest.
And in the morning I’m going to take you to see your doctor.”

Myra’s attempt at protest was answered with a very firm, “No, I won’t hear a word of argument!”

“There’s no arguing with him when he gets like this,” Myra said with a tired smile.
“Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself.”

“When it comes to taking care of you, you can be assured I am the expert.”
Cassie noted the possessiveness in his tone.
Oh, dear, she thought, if only he would realize how much Mother hates being dominated.
If he would lighten up a little, he might stand a chance at winning Myra’s heart.

*  *  *

Mac expected the party to break up after Myra and Alan left, but the other members of the coven seemed reluctant to part.
After a few moments of desultory chatting, Naomi suggested that Mary Beth bring out her crystal ball and see if she could discover the answer to the mystery of who killed Reverend Elkins.
Although they all knew such evidence
would never impress Sheriff Whitaker, it migh
t prove to be very enlightening
just the same.

Mac’s interest was piqu
ed.
Although he had always considered fortune telling to be nothing more than a c
harlatan’s trick, still and all
actually sitting through such a session
might prove useful to his story, so h
e was more than willing to join the women as they all filed into a small room off to the side of the parlor.

The door they passed through had been closed throughout the evening and Mac had assumed it opened onto a closet.
He would never have suspected that the door hid a room devoted solely to the reading of fortunes.

“We call it
skrying
,” Cassie explained to Mac as they all crowded into the small room.
“I think you’ll find it interesting.
Mary Beth is really quite talented.”

Naomi, Shelly and Edith followed the others,
each carrying a small straight-
backed chair.
The only furnishings in the room were a small circular table flanked by two chairs similar to the ones now being brought in.
The table was covered with a black velvet cloth.
In the direct center was an object that was covered with a square of black silk.
Mac supposed it was the crystal ball.

His senses peaked with anticipation.
So he was finally go
ing to get what he had come for.

“Here, take this chair,” Naomi offered Mac as Cassie, Shelly and Edith pulled up chairs to the table.
“I’ll get another.”

“Thanks, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather stand,” Mac answered.
He wanted to be in a position to see as much as possible.

“If you’re sure,” Naomi acquiesced, seating herself at the table with her Wiccan sisters.

Mac leaned against the wall, settling in for the show.
Sarge
, intending to not miss out on anything, had followed him in and settled down on his favorite object, Mac’s right foot.

Mac silently commended Mary Beth on the setting.
It was everything a reading
room should be - heavy curtains at the windows, the scent of incense burning, the only light that of flickering candles set in sconces on the walls.
Did they hold s
éances here too, he wondered.

Mary Beth removed the cloth from the crystal, folded it neatly and set it off to the side.
Mac made
himself
comfortable, expecting to be entert
ained by some sort of dramatic reading, b
ut it turned out to be nothing
like
he expected.

No mysterious sounds filled the room.
There was no sudden drop in temperature.
The light, though subdued, was sufficient for Mac to see the crystal clearly from over Mary Beth’s shoulder.
As far as he co
uld see, nothing appeared in it
s depths.

He shifted his position so that he could get a better
view of the young witch’s face, a
maneuver made more complicated by the mass of puppy that seemed to have taken p
ermanent residence on his foot.

Hands placed lightly on the ta
b
le at each side of the ball, Mary Beth began
exploring
its depths.
Everyone else in the room remained silent, all eyes riveted on her.
A slight crease
appeared between her brows as she focused her attention on the sphere.

“I’m looking for an answer to the riddle of who
killed that sweet old man.
I’m not getting a
nything to suggest a solution, b
ut something else seems to be happening here.”

She shivered as if a blast of icy air had swept over her.
Completely engrossed by what she saw in the crystal, Mary Beth appeared to be oblivious to everyone else in the room.

“I see something evil, s
o evil my eyes turn from it.
I c
an’t make myself see what it is
but I do know that it is so near us that it could reach out and touch any one of us any time it wants to.”

She shuddered in revulsion
but did not turn away from the task she had set for herself.

“T
he evil wants to destroy us all
and it is sure it will succeed.
I sense its glee at the suffering we will endure.”