Then came a squeal from the living room, and thumps of happy little feet. “Meh-meh!” It was three-year-old Wanda, overjoyed that her friend had come to play. Emera returned the sentiment. “Wandaaaah!”
“Show her your spooky drawing, baby.” Leticia put Emera down, and the girls raced to the living room. “God help us all, Wanda is copying DeShaun’s scary comics—and she’s very good at it.”
“Do you still feel weird about this meeting?” Stella asked.
“Don’t you?”
“Mmm…touché.”
“Weird or not, I’m glad you had this idea.” Leticia gave Stella’s arm a reassuring pat. “I couldn’t leave you guys if I didn’t know you were going to be all right.”
“You can thank Abe,” Stella whispered. “He doesn’t want it getting out, but he came up with the whole thing.”
They went to the counter of Leticia’s ever-immaculate kitchen, which these days doubled as an art gallery for Wanda’s crayoned masterworks, and started setting out groceries.
When the doorbell rang again a minute later, both baby girls squealed with faux fright from the living room, then giggled at one another.
“Speak of the devil.” Leticia stopped to dim the lights minutely, then went to the door while Stella looked over the groceries—all organic, as requested by the guests—that would comprise dinner for two housewives, two little girls, two pagan witches and a Christian minister.
“Thanks for letting me borrow your assistant, Reverend.” Leticia said, as she led Reverend Abe McGlazer to the kitchen.
“Yes!” exclaimed McGlazer. “Assistant, not boss! Thanks for playing along, Leticia.” McGlazer dug into a bowl of cashews left on the counter just for him. “Any idea how Hudson and Yoshi are doing?”
“Due back tomorrow. I’m trying not to worry.”
“DeShaun?”
“Helping The Outlines at the Community Center.”
McGlazer gobbled cashews as he cast a glance at the front door.
“Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” said Stella.
“Anxious is the word,” McGlazer answered. “But not about tonight.”
Leticia and Stella did not ask what, then—and did not need to. With Halloween approaching, they all bore the same abiding apprehension. Two consecutive autumns of harrowing, county-wide peril had conditioned them to expect something terrible and terrifying to happen, some horrific disaster surely brewing even now as they futilely rushed to prepare for it.
Chapter 5
Seasons of the Witch
In a raucous race, the little girls answered the door before the adults could. “Twick o’ tweat!” Wanda yelled to the two guests.
Emera giggled and repeated the phrase.
“Trick-or-treat to you, little cuties!” responded Maisie, her smile as wide as a crescent moon.
“Here you go!” said Ysabella, handing the children confections she had made herself. “For dessert. All right?”
“Dee-zert!” said Emera, though she mimed eating it then and there, to the delight of her friend as they darted back to the living room.
“I didn’t know what to expect—but you’re both so pretty!” Leticia told Ysabella and Maisie after hellos, as she took their jackets.
“Hey, look!” Emera and Wanda were back, both holding up rumpled crayon illustrations.
Ysabella and Maisie each took one and examined it. There was not the slightest irony in their smiles of admiration.
Emera’s was a forest. The trees were black at the bottom but became green at the tops, under a fat, smiling sun.
Wanda had rendered a powerful mother figure, black like her, with rainbows sprouting from her hands.
Ysabella knelt, though her knees popped and cracked. “This is far beyond their age level. Have you had them in classes?”
“Neither one,” answered Stella.
“They seem to feed off each other’s talent,” said Leticia.
“A little coven of two,” said Ysabella, touching each girl’s head “That is as magical as it gets.”
Stella got the little girls in their high chairs, McGlazer got the guests seated in gentlemanly fashion and Leticia gave orderly and concise introductions.
The name Maisie came easily to the girls’ little tongues, but “Ysabella” proved to be a challenge. The elder witch suggested “Miss Iss.” They repeated it to each other dozens of times.
“I feel underdressed,” added Stella. Looking down at the guests’ feet, she gave a quick laugh. “I’m sorry,” she said, pointing to their slip-on loafers. “I must have expected pointy black boots.”
Ysabella and Maisie were far from offended. Hyper-aware of the general public’s perception of witches, they always did their best to present a comforting appearance. For the dinner meeting, they had worn casual-elegant dresses and understated makeup.
Rings and necklaces bearing pentacles and other so-called pagan symbols were either concealed or left back at the inn, save for a braided leather bracelet Ysabella wore, woven through a carved jade Green Man head, the tiny polished face sculpted with a gleeful smile.
Emera’s eyes fell to the jolly little man, and she mirrored its smile.
Once everyone was settled at the table, the dinner guests joined hands and looked to McGlazer.
“Right,” he said. “Time to say grace. You…don’t mind?”
“We always give thanks,” said Ysabella.
McGlazer offered a broad, nondenominational thanks, which little Wanda punctuated with chubby hands held high and a hearty “Maaaay-mim!”
The witches tucked in and gave their compliments on the décor and furnishings. Then it was time for business.
“I felt it,” Ysabella said. “Not long after we crossed the county line.”
Maisie rubbed her elder’s shoulder and looked at McGlazer. “You were right to call us, Reverend. It’s only getting stronger.”
“We’ve contacted our sisters, but I must tell you, you’ve caught us at a bad time.” Ysabella’s voice was still scratchy from the earlier vomiting spell. “We’re far from full strength.”
“Suffice to say, we’ll need anyone in town to participate who will,” Maisie added.
“It’s our town,” Stella said. “Of course, we’ll help.”
“There’s a good deal of risk involved.”
Leticia and Stella exchanged an uncertain gaze.
Maisie broke the heavy pause. “We understand you’re moving away, Leticia.”
“Hudson is taking a job in Henderson County.”
This assertion was mostly positive thinking. The deal was far from sealed on her husband’s new position.
“It’s good of you to host us. But I can tell you have reservations.”
“I was raised Lutheran.” Leticia cast a self-conscious smile at Maisie. “Or did you already know?”
“I’m not reading your mind,” Maisie said. “The tells are all there. It’s more
