Payback's a Witch Page 3

  “It will have to do.” I said. “Would you rather pitch a tent?” I suggested, knowing Winnie would rather sleep on nails. She’d rather stay in the most disgusting motel than camp in a tent. I didn’t understand though...camping sounded like fun.

  “No.” she crossed her arms. We looked eccentric for the village, and usually Winnie drew heads, but this time I was too. Her outfit was all orange today, clashing with her hair. In my drab brown I still attracted stares, or more accurately the large raven sitting on my shoulder did. I don’t think people realize how big raven’s get, and Alan wasn’t exactly petite. The stares made me conscious of how much attention we must draw every time we're in the normal realm.

  “Besides, maybe staying with Nan we can gather some information. The last record I have of Andrew’s activity is the man he possessed, after that there’s nothing. Maybe this won’t be so difficult after all, he could have worn himself thin after that and doesn’t have the power to fight back.” The idea was tempting, but something told me we were in for a more difficult time.

  “It can’t hurt,” Alan said out of one side of his beak. He often forgot that talking animals weren’t the norm here. More than once I had to panic and tell people that you can train ravens to speak the same way you can with parrots. It was true, though no bird in this realm could speak with the clarity that Alan managed.

  “When was Andrew hanged?” Winnie asked, realizing something I had figured out almost as soon as the assignment was given.

  “Two weeks from today,” I said, earning a look from Winnie. This might have been what she thought I was keeping from her. The assignment had been given around the anniversary of his death, when spirit activity grew stronger and more frequent. I had figured that out, but I still couldn’t understand why we had been sent now, after all this time. He seemed dormant.

  “Are you serious?” Winnie stopped walking. I continued, but when it became clear that she wasn’t going to follow, I turned around and looked at her.

  “He’ll be easier to find this way,” I encouraged. “A dormant spirit is almost impossible to find, or to coax out in order to get them back over.”

  “I doubt he’d be very hard to find,” Winnie snapped. “He’s in one of two places, his house or the graveyard.” It was true, but that doesn’t mean we would be able to force him back to Indiana and across realms with us. Spirits were flighty things, even more so when they were dormant.

  “We’ll be okay,” I insisted. I wasn’t used to Winnie being like this. She was usually up for anything, the more difficult a case seemed the more excited she was about solving it. She was cagey this time around, and I couldn’t figure out why. I had been nervous when the case was first assigned, but only because I knew the legends. I knew the danger the case could pose, but now we were prepared I felt confident in our abilities. Winnie seemed to be the opposite.

  “I know you think that,” she said nodding. “I trust you.” Her words mimicked what she had said this morning. She trusted me, but she believed I was hiding things from her. I wasn’t exactly an open book; my past was mine and I rarely spoke of anything that didn’t pertain to work. I considered Winnie my closest friend, aside from Alan, neither of them knew anything of my past only because I didn’t care to share it with anyone, not that I remembered much of it. Details could be hazy for me. I would never keep something from either of them that pertained to a case or that might get them in trouble or hurt. I cared for them too deeply to lie to them.

  We walked the rest of the way in silence, Winnie seemed to calm down the further we went. In my experience a walk could cure all kinds of ails. It was a magic of its own. I read something once that suggested our brainwaves were on the same frequency as the sounds of nature, so when we walked outdoors our brains literally leveled out. Winnie gave me a look when we arrived at Nan’s. Her house looked too small for even one person, let alone three and a large bird. I had been assured that she loved animals and would allow Alan in as well, but I was still skeptical.

  “Hello!” A friendly old woman waved at us from the front door. She had deep wrinkles that showed a long, expressive life. “Dorothy called me to say you were coming,” she explained happily as we walked up to the door.

  “I’m Vana,” I held my hand out to shake hers.

  “Winnie.” She did the same.

  “And who is this with you?” She cooed at Alan, stroking his neck under his beak. He made a sort of purring sound, which I would definitely poke fun at him later.

  “Alan,” I said. “He’s very friendly.” I hated having to pretend that he was merely a pet. It was awkward and felt belittling. He was probably more intelligent than Winnie or me.

  “He seems like such a dear,” she said wiping her hands on her pants. She was wearing an all purple sweat suit. It was as though I was looking into Winnie’s future of monochromatic outfits. “I’m Nancy, but you can call me Nan, everyone else does.”

  “We were told we could stay her for a bit?” I asked. Looking at the small structure I didn’t know where we would all fit, but it was all we had.

  “Of course.” She led us inside. It didn’t seem as crowded as it looked. The house was narrow, but long. “Let’s get you some tea.” It was less of an offer and more of an order as she shepherded us into the kitchen. Her house looked like it belonged in the seventies, which I found comforting. I didn’t remember the specifics, but I had spent time in a house much like this one when I was young. I must have felt safe there, because I felt safe here.

  “Thank you,” I said as Nan passed a bright floral patterned mug to me. Winnie nodded her thanks as she was handed a mug as well. “Your house is lovely.” I took a deep drink of my tea, feeling warmth all over. Alan looked at my tea longingly. Sorry pal...I don't think Nan would appreciate a beak in her fancy mugs.

  “I appreciate that dear, I haven’t done much to it over the years.” Nan looked around. “Lived here my whole life.” I didn’t doubt it. People from small towns like this rarely left them, even for short trips. I knew of a woman who lived in a small town divided by a river and she had never crossed it to the other side of town.

  “Thank you for opening your home to us,” Winnie said. She sipped at her tea to be polite, but she preferred coffee. To her, normal realm drinks tasted off, not as good as what we had in our world. Since I grew up here, I felt the opposite.

  “We get visitors here sometimes,” Nan started. “Usually people obsessed with the ghost stories around here, and since we don’t have anywhere for them to stay, it became an easy way for me to earn a bit of money after my husband passed on.”

  “We’re more than happy to pay,” I said, getting the feeling that she wasn’t comfortable asking us for money outright. “We aren’t sure how long we're going to be in town, but we can pay for the next couple weeks in advance.”

  “That’s longer than most care to stay, you think you might be longer?” She asked curiously. “It’s $100 a week.”

  “We can do that,” I dodged her question. I went into my bag, pulling a couple hundred from a wad of cash I kept in there. I learned from experience that taking out a large wad of cash in public was a surefire way to get yourself attacked.

  “You don’t look like nut cases, so I suppose you aren’t here for all that hatchet man business.” Nan tucked the money I passed her into her bra. It seemed that as long as we were good for the money, she wouldn’t ask too many questions or care how long we stayed. I found that most people were like that. “I’d bet you are journalism students, here about the poor girl they found here the other day in the old Hellman house.”

  “Guilty as charged,” Winnie answered with a laugh. She was much better at playing along than I was. In minutes she could dissect who a person is and then be whatever she needed to be in order to get the most information possible. “We are grad students at Ohio University, we heard about what happened and just had to check it out.”

  “It’s tragic really.” Nan looked troubled. “It reminded me of the old days
in town.”

  “That’s what our article is about, actually,” Winnie explained smoothly. “How the tragedy in this small town has been pervasive since the 1800’s. Of course, we don’t think it’s because of any ghost or spirit, but it is interesting.” I didn’t give her enough credit. Not only had she listened to everything I told her, she also clearly did her own research. Neither of us had heard about this girl they found.

  “There has been a blight on our town forever,” Nan agreed. “It seemed like in the last few decades things had calmed down. No more unexplained disappearances, murders or anything like that. Until a couple weeks ago that is and for her to be discovered in the house where the stories started.”

  “We know they found a girl; do you know what her name was? Or what happened to her?” I asked, hoping that the question didn’t make us sound like we were lying. If her name had been plastered everywhere, we should know it already.

  “Officially, I don’t know her name or what happened to her,” Nan sucked in a deep breath and then took a small sip of her tea.

  “Unofficially?” Winnie pressed.

  “It’s not too hard for anyone who’s been in town for a long time to guess what happened to her. It’s the same as all the others who went missing and turned up dead later. Hacked to death with an ax.” Winnie and I exchanged a look. If that was true, then we had a difficult road ahead of us. “I don’t know the girl's name, but not too long ago a woman came through looking for her best friend. She said that her friend had come out here to research the hatchet man and never came back. Poor thing, no one believed her when she tried to report her missing. I guess her friend had a tendency to run off when she was younger.”

  “Do you remember the name of the woman?” I asked. She would be a good place to start. We needed to learn as much as we could about what we were up against before diving in.

  “It was something like Margie, or Maggie maybe.” Nan stood and pulled a large floral-patterned book from the top of the fridge. “This is my guest sign-in book. I was going to have you both sign it, maybe her name is in here.”

  “It looks like Margret, Margret Chen,” I said deciphering the small cursive she had written her name in.

  “That’s it!” Nan said with recollection. “She was a sweet thing, determined to find her friend. I can’t remember the friend’s name though, I’m sure she mentioned it, but these days things seem to fall right out of my head.” Winnie gave me an odd look. She seemed unsure as to whether Nan meant this literally or not. Phrases didn’t translate well across realms, it was all too possible for someone to have things stored in their head where we were from.

  “I understand, memory is a fickle thing.” I spoke from experience, having little memories of my own past. I signed the guest book and passed it to Winnie. I quickly handed her a pen before she could make her signature appear without one. There were still some finer points that were hard for her to remember about the normal realm and Nikatomia.

  “So, even though you know the history of the town, and the odd disappearances and high rate of violence, you don’t think it has anything to do with the hatchet man?” Winnie asked after clumsily writing her signature out. Alan let out a cackle. Winnie gave him the side eye.

  “I never said that.” Nan shook her head.

  “But you said it was nonsense,” Winnie protested. I recalled her saying the same, seeming to think that the whole business with ghosts was ridiculous.

  “I don’t believe in ghosts or spirits or what have you, but I do believe in the power a story can have,” Nan explained. Our tea had gone cold, and the sun was starting to set. It had taken us longer than expected to get to the town and then to find accommodations. I felt the pressure of time.

  “You mean you think because of what Andrew Hellman did all those years ago, the story had inspired others to do the same?” Winnie asked skeptically.

  “Not quite that. I believe that words have power, and the legends about the hatchet man are what really haunt our town. The legends bring people from all over, they supply most of the people here with an income. It’s possible that the need to keep interest in our town brought some to commit atrocities. I also believe that people who might do something terrible have the legend in their minds when they do, so it only perpetuates the story further.” Nan was nobody’s fool, if we hadn’t known that there actually was a spirit haunting them, this was the most logical reasoning I had heard to explain paranormal occurrences.

  “What about the man who copied the crime after his wife died?” Nan collected our mugs and stood at the sink cleaning them out.

  “I think he had heard the ghost story of the hatchet man his entire life, and when his wife died, and he went mad with grief that was what he emulated. Poor man.” She shook her head. I noticed her hands shaking as she ran water over the soapy mugs.

  “Here, let me.” I took the mug from her hand, washing it for her. She attempted to protest but sat down in the end. Our talk had upset her, and I wondered if Nan had known the man who killed the cemetery grounds keeper.

  Chapter Four

  Nan’s accommodations were modest, but we’d stayed in worse places. At least the room we were in was clean. She agreed to allow Alan to stay in the room with us as long as we promised he wouldn’t go potty on the floor. I offered her an extra fifty in case something happened, but she refused it.

  “We need to find Margret Chen,” I said, thankful for Winnie’s quick thinking earlier. Our cover was perfect, we could discuss the case openly considering that anything Nan overheard she’d chalk up to our report. There had been times in the past where our covers weren't nearly so convenient. “Figure out who her missing friend is, or was, and if that friend is who they recovered from the house.”

  “I wonder if Nan’s theory holds any weight.” Winnie was lost in thought. She had folded and refolded the same shirt almost half a dozen times.

  “We already know it doesn’t,” Alan whispered. Which was weird...he'd never whispered before. There were times I wish I knew he had a whisper voice. Ravens can be mouthy and loud when they want to be. “Why would we be assigned here unless there was a spirit for us to apprehend?” That kind of talk definitely couldn’t be overheard.

  “Shush.” I put my pointer figure over my lips, making Alan glower at me. He better be happy I didn't toss a shoe at him. I opened the door of the room a crack and looked outside. The faint sound of the television on and even quieter snoring told me what I needed to know. Nan didn’t seem to be nearby or trying to listen in, but that was never a total guarantee. Truth was we couldn’t trust anyone.

  “We can’t be sure they didn’t send us here by mistake,” Winnie suggested. “We don’t even know who is sending us on these missions.” The pointed look she gave me told me that she thought I must know more. Instead of responding, I held my finger up once more. Taking a small pouch from my backpack I sprinkled a mixture of herbs and ground stone along the base of the door.

  “No wandering eye shall perceive, no listening ear shall hear within from beyond this threshold,” I chanted quietly as I scattered the herbs. I said it three times over for good measure. I liked Nan, but I had to proceed with caution.

  “Do you think that’s necessary?” Winnie asked once I was done.

  “Yes, I do,” I replied. Winnie would have made a great interrogator, but she’d get herself killed by trusting people. “Now, why do you think that her theory holds weight?” I asked.

  “Maybe not all of it. I think Andrew Hellman’s spirit is probably responsible for all the women that have gone missing over the years. Definitely the ones that have been found dead from ax cuts. Mostly just the man who killed the grounds keeper. It would make sense if he had just snapped.” I nodded, it was possible.

  “I’d rather continue as though Andrew Hellman is capable of possession. Caution won’t get us killed, it will keep us prepared.” Winnie silently mocked me by mouthing the phrase along with me.

  “You got it boss,” she agreed. I coul
d tell it was still bugging her though. Winnie liked answers. Even if she didn’t mind going forward with caution, not knowing for sure would nag at her. “Margret is our best lead.”

  “I’d be willing to bet that Nan knows more too,” Alan said with a flap of his wings. The room we were in was narrow, and I could tell that its size was making him anxious. “I’m curious as to why the disappearances stopped after the mad man in the 80s, and why they seem to have started again.”

  “I’m wondering about that too,” I assured him. Most of the time a spirit’s activity was cyclical. They were stuck in a loop, doomed to repeat the same thing over and over again. They were also on a schedule, that typically was tied to when they died. So for years there weren't any murders or disappearances, now there was. What had caused the Hatchet Man to lay dormant and then all of a sudden return again...if it even was him at all. “Let’s find Margret and see what she knows, what she can tell us about her friend.”

  “First, we should do some research, learn more about the victims in the past. Plus it’s late enough that we probably won’t get in touch with Margret until tomorrow anyway.” Winnie pulled the laptop from my bag. We had special computers just for the normal realm, otherwise they wouldn’t work very well. I could look up any spell I needed in a paranormal computer but try to find something about the normal realm and you’d come up empty.

  “You’re right,” I agreed looking at the soft darkness falling outside. I sent Alan outside for a bit so he could stretch his wings, he was also useful for reconnaissance. The bird could light on a branch, bench or sidewalk where someone of interest might be discussing our case. I wanted him to go to the police station and the town hall. Those were the places where someone might know what was going on.

  Winnie took charge of research, meanwhile I got us all dinner and created a plan. Winnie was quicker than I was and discovered where Margret lived and the history of the past victims with ease. I brought the pizza into our room after wishing Nan a good night. I stepped gingerly over the line of herbs I sprinkled earlier. If it was disturbed, the spell would break, and Nan could listen in on us.