Tales of the Witch (12 page)

The mentorship had flourished, although it wasn’t without its prickly moments between their two forceful personalities. Rachel now occasionally called herself an ‘apprentice witch’, tongue-in-cheek to tease her apprehensive neighbors.

Rachel poked and fluffed at the blossoms she’d banked against the door to block it open. The glorious Indian summer sun entered and gilded everything in the shop. “Do these questions have anything to do with the fact that Halloween is a few days away?”

“Well…” Daniel’s uncharacteristic shyness pulled Rachel’s attention away from her displays.

“What?” she prodded.

“People figure I have connections, you know? They get expectations when they find out that I’m like your right hand man around here. Sometimes they think I’m in on the, uh, witch-stuff.” He ducked his head as if suddenly concerned about the unswept condition of the floor near his feet. He grabbed a broom and started sweeping with virtuous energy.

Rachel studied him through narrowed eyes, hands on hips. Although he was only a high school junior, he’d named himself truly as her right hand man. Since she’d hired him, he’d made himself indispensable. He was smart, enthusiastic, hard working, and incapable of dishonesty. He even loved flowers. And he’d made the varsity football team this year. Short, but quick on his feet. With his tilted hazel eyes and quirky grin, he was growing into a girl magnet.

From her lofty position of five years his elder, she speculated whether some high school princess was responsible for Daniel’s sudden interest in witchcraft.

Just then, Mayor Harold Harper of Wyndham-by-the-Sea stepped into the open doorway, filling it with his short blocky body. Before he could launch his usual ‘I’m-a-square-guy’ politician’s grin, Rachel noticed his tension and hoped she knew its source. Elections loomed in early November and for the first time in two decades, he had a fight on his hands. His opponent, Ms. Audrey Green, former head of Wyndham’s School Board, had mustered strong support among certain of the villagers.

“Sweetheart, how ya doin’!” He stepped inside the door, took one of her hands and stretched to buss the taller Rachel’s cheek. She submitted, but with distaste. Her vote was earmarked for Ms. Green.

“Any roses today?” He dropped her hand and glanced around at the mums, ivy-draped pumpkins, Indian corn, and dried flower wreaths.

“Always,” said Rachel. “What color?”

“Red. How much?”

“Forty a dozen.”

He winced. “Okay. Free delivery to my house?”

“Sure,” put in Daniel. “When?”

“Right now?”

Rachel grinned. “Sounds urgent. Mrs. Harper catch you kissing a babe instead of a baby, Mayor?”

“Never mind. Just give me a card to put in with the flowers.”

She waved a hand at the card rack. He picked one, scribbled something, and sealed the envelope before handing it to Daniel, with two twenties. Rachel noticed he hadn’t included tax, and sighed, nodding to Daniel to go ahead and ring it up. The mayor was accustomed to claiming privileges that weren’t his to claim.

At this moment, Mrs. Risk entered the shop, striding long-legged in the impatient way she had, black skirts swirling at her slim ankles. On her arm was the basket containing her cat, Jezebel, who liked to ride along on Mrs. Risk’s walks.

Rachel giggled. “Lucky you dropped in. Daniel’s got some questions for you.”

Mrs. Risk beamed at Daniel. “Oh, yes? And what are they?”

Mayor Harper twisted to face Mrs. Risk. To Rachel’s surprise, she saw relief wash over his features. “Sweet—I mean, ah, Mrs. Risk! Hoped I’d run into you this morning!”

Mrs. Risk’s eyelids drooped at once over onyx eyes gleaming with suspicion. Rachel and Daniel gaped at the unnatural warmth of Harper’s greeting. Mrs. Risk extended her long fingers to the mayor to ward off his kiss. He shook them awkwardly, then dropped them as if they were too hot.

“I’m having a rally tonight, casual, out on Harrington’s dock. Music, drinks, a few peanuts and chips. Whole village’s invited. I—ah—thought you might consider attending as my guest of honor. Maybe—ah, say a few words.”

“On your behalf?” asked Mrs. Risk. “For the election?”

“Well. Of course. If you—ah—that’s the idea. Yes.” He fidgeted, which looked odd for a man of his age and bulk. He swallowed hard, shook his head as if trying to squeeze out more words, then finally croaked, “I’d really appreciate it.”

Rachel and Daniel stared. His Honor was known for asking favors, but never from Mrs. Risk, about whom he often broadcast nasty speculations. Indeed, Mrs. Risk often directed uncomfortable attention towards His Honor—against which he always took an ‘injured innocence’ stance. Mrs. Risk contemplated Harper. The silence grew.

“Yes, well.” He exhaled through pursed lips. “What say, huh?” This was almost begging.

He must need her support desperately, guessed Rachel.

Just before the silence stretched to an unbearable length, Mrs. Risk relented. “Sounds lovely. Thank you for your invitation, Harry.” He hated to be called Harry. “But no.”

“Oh, you’ve other plans,” he said, waving a thick paw through the air as if dismissing any plans she might have as insignificant. “I could—”

“No, I’m not busy this evening. I could be there. However, I support your opponent, Ms. Green. If I attend your event, I will say as much to your other guests, loudly and often. If you can accept those circumstances, I’d be happy to attend.”

Harper ground his teeth together. “What do you have against me being Wyndham’s mayor again?”

“Why, Harry!” Her eyebrows arched as if in surprise at such a question. “I have so little time this morning, but since you ask: your fondness for commercializing any aspect of Wyndham to swell your salary, even if it downgrades the quality of our life, our wildlife, or our environment. Or—care to discuss your greed for payoffs and extravagant perks?”

The glowering Mayor quivered where he stood, his complexion evolving from red to deep purple. Rachel wondered if his head was going to explode.

Then abruptly his color receded. He aimed a stumpy finger at a pile of tiny tagged cellophane-wrapped bags of grassy material that lay next to the cash register. “WHAT,” he bellowed at Rachel, “IS THAT?”

Rachel blinked, disoriented by the sudden change of subject. She looked where he pointed. “The herbs? They’re…they’re herbs,” she finished helplessly.

“You’re promoting witchcraft!” he boomed, an evangelistic note in his pronouncement.

“No I’m not. Besides, what if I did? It’s Halloween,” said Rachel. “I AM in a business that’s heavily into holidays.”

“You’re responsible for this,” he accused Mrs. Risk with a sneer.

“Yes, I supplied the herbs,” she agreed. “What of it?”

Rachel shook her head. “I asked her to bundle up a variety of herbs for me, with explanatory labels. She did it as a favor.”

Mrs. Risk said, “It’s herbology, not witchcraft, if that’s your objection. To offer others an opportunity to sample in a small way the benefits of a natural life as opposed to employing polluting chemicals—”

“Don’t sell me your hokey ‘natural’ shtick,” growled Harper. “Ordinarily I look the other way when you push your UNnatural weeds, or creepy advice on my people, but this season—” and to everyone’s amazement, he shivered ostentatiously.

“It isn’t just me, either,” he continued. “Everyone feels it. They’re all going around looking over their shoulders and jumping if somebody talks too loud.”

“I’ve noticed it, too,” put in Daniel. Mrs. Risk looked skeptically at Daniel.

“But why?” Rachel asked.

Mayor Harper started to answer, but Daniel interrupted, “Guys are saying that strange things’ve been happening ever since that meteor shower we had a few nights back.”

“Meteor shower? What could that do?” asked Rachel.

Mrs. Risk gazed at the Mayor, her black eyes gleaming. With a mischievously taunting voice, she answered, “Any atmospheric disturbance further agitates spirits that, in this case, would already be restless because of the advent of Halloween.”

“Not true,” scoffed Harper in an oddly high voice. Mrs. Risk shrugged. Harper blustered, “I hereby go on record to say I disapprove of your promoting these dangerous ideas.”

Mrs. Risk’s eyebrows rose. “Herbalism?”

“All of your nonsense. My people don’t need this kind of upsetting occult influence.”

“Your people?” Rachel asked in a voice tinged with sarcasm. “Occult influence?”

“Yes. Things have happened already because of you!”

The ‘you,’ Rachel realized with consternation, was aimed at Mrs. Risk.

The mayor resumed, “Like the desecration that occurred in one of our historical cemeteries last night. I don’t know if you read your paper this morning but—”

“I read it,” Rachel stated flatly. Mrs. Risk insisted she read newspapers every morning as part of her ‘education’, but she didn’t tell this to the mayor. “The old Van Schull cemetery. Two old tombstones were shifted around and—” she broke off and gazed suspiciously at Daniel. His face suddenly became angelic with innocence as he gazed back. She suppressed an urge to laugh. There had to be a girl behind this.

Mrs. Risk made an inelegant noise. “A few old tombstones budged mere inches does not amount to desecration, Mayor. A little harmless excitement.” A flicked wink at Daniel spurred him into a flurry of sweeping. “And pray God the quest for thrills precipitates nothing more harmful than THAT.”

Mayor Harper curled his lips into a snarl. “It upsets my people. I intend to put a stop to it and make sure the perpetrator is severely punished. This is a Christian community. Occultism is an abomination!”

With a second abrupt change of mood, Mayor Harper beamed a cheery farewell to Rachel, sidling out past Mrs. Risk without acknowledging her any further.

The moment he was out of earshot, Rachel turned on the witch—who stood deep in thought—in a fury. “That old actor. He’s up to something, and he thought of it the second he spotted those herbs. And YOU! I told you you’d get into trouble with your hammy ‘Witch of Wyndham’ black dresses and the way you butt into people’s business. Few people realize that you’re actually nice. You’ve flim-flammed them too much.”

Mrs. Risk examined her in surprise. “Why Rachel, you’re upset. I’m in no trouble. I live as I please and do as I like, and I always will. If you’re worried on my behalf, don’t be. I’ve done more good for these villagers than even you know, and the mayor less harm than he deserves. I’ve never asked them for gratitude—”

“And they’ve never given you any, either,” hissed Rachel.

“No matter. Surely they’d never side against me for such an obviously self-interested windbag. Public servant, tchah! He obviously considers me an obstruction to his re-election. Since I’ve done nothing up to now, I can’t imagine why he’s so paranoid, except from having to conceal and deny so much of his true nature, which is hardly my fault.” She shrugged.

Rachel frowned. “Just don’t goad him, like you did about that stupid meteor shower. You’re asking for trouble.”

“I ask for nothing,” insisted Mrs. Risk. “Now, Daniel, what are your questions?”

After a nervous glance at Rachel, Daniel launched with reborn enthusiasm his quest for information about witches, which Mrs. Risk greatly enjoyed supplying.

Two days later, Mayor Harper stormed into Rachel’s shop again, this time shouting as he entered, “Where’s that witch? I warned her! Where’s—” He started as he nearly collided with the object of his quest, Mrs. Risk.

Rachel gazed from face to face worriedly. Daniel came rushing in from the back alley where he’d been unloading pumpkins from a truck. He moved close to Rachel’s side, wiping his hands on a towel and staring wide-eyed.

“What are you howling about?” Mrs. Risk asked calmly. “Are you referring to the events that occurred last night in the cemetery again? That’s certainly no—”

“You’ll promote no more witchcraft shenanigans, or we’ll be having an event occur,” he sneered the words in sarcastic mockery, “in the District Attorney’s office. Or maybe in the lock-up, if you don’t feel like cooperating.”

Rachel was shocked.

Mrs. Risk looked incredulous. “It’s only youngsters. Didn’t you ever cavort in a graveyard on Halloween with a pretty girl when you were young, Harry?”

Harper seethed with anger. “Cavort? This is no cavorting, although maybe you’d think so. This is disgusting.”

“What did they do?” asked Rachel.

“Devil worship,” he spat out in a rage. “Drawing diagrams on the ground, disturbing graves, crazy music, girls doing—God only knows. Under the influence of hallucinatory drugs, probably.”

“Meaning you don’t know, you’re only guessing,” insisted Rachel furiously. “No, you’re hoping. You’re trying to smear Mrs. Risk because without her support, you’re losing your campaign. She’s done nothing at all but tell people she’s going to vote for Ms. Green and people respect her opinion. I’m voting for Ms. Green. We need less scum on our waterfront.”

Mayor Harper turned to Rachel. “You’d better re-read your lease before you start talking to me like that.”

Rachel paled. What did her lease have to do with Mayor Harper? “Get out of my shop!” She started towards him, but he gave her a look which somehow stopped her.

He glanced around the flower-crammed store with exaggerated care. “I always thought this place would make a great liquor store. These plants, too damp. Probably rotting the floor with all your watering. And bugs. Unhealthy. I’ll bet a good inspection could reveal this place of business to be dangerous to customers.

“And that picture of you—open to an obscenity charge.” He contemplated Rachel’s large nude portrait of her reclining among strategically placed colorful blossoms. A famous local artist had painted it, and she’d hung it on the wall behind the counter and used it as her logo. Daniel often could be caught mooning over that painting, to Mrs. Risk’s distress.

Harper tore his gaze away from the painting. He gave her lush figure a lascivious inspection. “Well, it could just be that you’re too much under the influence of this woman, here. You’re young, you could reform. After she’s gone.”

A growl begin in Daniel’s throat. Rachel elbowed him in the stomach.