Dead Witch Walking

poison ivy. When we hit deep country, he was scratching so much it seemed a struggle to keep the car on the road. I had been watching him intently. Driving a stick didn't look hard.

'You bug,' he said with a snarl. 'You did this to me Saturday, too, didn't you!'

'I'm gonna spell him!' Jenks said, the high pitch of his voice making my eyes ache.

Tired of it all, I turned to Francis. 'All right, cookie. Pull it over.'

Francis blinked. 'What?'

Idiot, I thought. 'How long do you think I can keep Jenks from tagging you if you keep insulting him? Pull over.' Francis glanced nervously between the road and me. We hadn't seen a car in the last five miles. 'I said, pull over!' I shouted, and he swerved to the dusty shoulder in a rattling of pebbles. I turned the car off and yanked the keys from the ignition. We lurched to a stop, my head smacking against the rearview mirror. 'Out,' I said, unlocking the doors.

'What? Here?' Francis was a city boy. He thought I was going to make him walk back. The idea was tempting, but I couldn't run the risk of him being picked up or finding his way to a phone. He got out with a surprising eagerness. I realized why when he started scratching.

I popped the trunk, and Francis's thin face went blank. 'No way,' he said, his skinny arms raised. 'I'm not getting in there.'

I felt the new bump on my forehead, waiting. 'Get into the trunk or I'm going to teach you how I spell mink and make a pair of earmuffs out of you.' I watched him think that over, wondering if he would make a run for it. I almost wished he would. It'd feel good to tackle him again. It had nearly been two whole days. I'd get him into the trunk somehow.

'Run,' Jenks said, circling above his head with the vial. 'Go on. Dare you, stink bag.'

Francis seemed to deflate. 'Oh, you'd like that, eh, bug?' he said with a sneer. But he wedged himself into the tiny space. He even gave me no trouble when I duct-taped his hands in front of him. We both knew he could get out of the wraps given enough time. But his superior look faltered as I held my hand up and Jenks landed on it with the vial.

'You said you wouldn't,' he stammered. 'You said it would turn me into a mink!'

'I lied. Both times.'

The look Francis gave me was murderous. 'I won't forget this,' he said, his jaw clenching to make him look even more ridiculous than his boat shoes and wide-cuffed slacks. 'I'm coming after you myself.'

'I hope you do.' I smiled, dumping the vial over his head. 'Nighty night.'

He opened his mouth to say more, but his expression slackened as soon as the fragrant liquid hit him. I watched, fascinated, as he fell asleep amid the scent of bay leaf and lilac. Satisfied, I slammed the trunk shut and called it good.

Settling uneasily behind the wheel, I adjusted the seat and mirrors. I hadn't ever driven a stick before, but if Francis could do it, I sure as heck could.

'Put it in first,' Jenks said, sitting on the rearview mirror and mimicking what I should do. 'Then give it more gas than you think you need while you let up on the clutch.'

I gingerly pushed the stick back and started the car.

'Well?' Jenks said from the mirror. 'We're waiting…'

I pushed the gas pedal and let up on the clutch. The car lurched backward, slamming into a tree. Panicking, I pulled my feet from the pedals, and the car stalled. I stared wide-eyed at Jenks as he laughed. 'It's in reverse, witch,' he said, darting out the window.

Through the rearview mirror, I watched him zip to the back and assess the damage. 'How bad is it?' I asked as he came back.

'It's okay,' he said, and I felt a wash of relief. 'Give it a few months, and you won't be able to see where it was hit,' he added. 'The car's busted, though. You broke a taillight.'

'Oh,' I said, realizing he'd been talking about the tree, not the car. My nerves were jittery as I jammed the stick forward, double-checked it, and started the car again. Another deep breath, and we lurched forward on our way.

Fourteen

Jenks turned out to be a passable instructor, enthusiastically shouting advice through the window as I practiced starting from a dead stop until I got the hang of it. My newfound confidence evaporated as I turned onto Kalamack's drive, slowing at the gatehouse. It was low and formidable looking, the size of a small jail. Tasteful plantings and low walls hid the security system that prevented anyone from driving around it.

'And how did you plan to get past that?' Jenks said as he flitted to hide atop the visor.

'No problem,' I said, my mind whirling. Visions of Francis in the trunk assailed me, and smiling my prettiest at the guard, I brought the car to a halt before the white stick across the road. The amulet beside the guard's watch stayed a nice green. It was a spell checker, much cheaper than the wood-framed glasses that could see through charms. I had been very careful to keep the amount of magic used in my disguise spell below the level of most vanity charms. As long as his amulet stayed green, he would assume I was under a standard makeup spell, not a disguise.

'I'm Francine,' I said on the spur of the moment. I pitched my voice high, smiling brainlessly, as if I had been planting Brimstone all night. 'I have an appointment with Mr. Kalamack?' Trying to look like a nitwit, I twirled a stray strand of hair. I was a brunette today, but it probably still worked. 'Am I late?' I asked, tugging my finger free of the knot I had accidentally put in my hair. 'I didn't think it would take me this long. He lives a long way out!'

The gateman was unaffected. Maybe I was losing my touch. Maybe I should have undone another button on my blouse. Maybe he liked men. He looked at his clipboard, then me.

'I'm from the I.S.,' I said, putting my tone somewhere between petulance and spoiled annoyance. 'Do you want to see my ID?' I rummaged in my bag for my nonexistent badge.

'Your name isn't on the list, ma'am,' the stone-faced guard said.

I flopped back with a huff. 'Did that guy in dispatch put me down as Francis again? Darn him!' I exclaimed, hitting the wheel with an ineffective fist. 'He's always doing that, ever since I refused to go on a date with him. I mean, really. He didn't even have a car! He wanted to take me to the movies on a bus. Ple-e-e-e-ease,' I moaned. 'Can you see me on a bus?'

'Just a moment, ma'am.' He picked up a phone and began speaking. I waited, trying to keep my ditzy smile in place, praying. The gateman's head bobbed in an unconscious expression of agreement. Still, his face was seriously empty when he turned back.

'Up the drive,' he said, and I struggled to keep my breath even. 'Third building on the right. You can park in the visitor lot directly off the front steps.'

'Thank you,' I sang merrily, sending the car lurching forward when the white bar rose. Through the rearview mirror I watched the guard go back inside. 'Easy as pie,' I muttered.

'Getting out might be harder,' Jenks said dryly.

Up the drive was three miles through an eerie wood. My mood went subdued as the road wound between the close, silent sentinels. Despite the overpowering impression of age, I began to get the feeling that everything had been planned out, even to the surprises, like the waterfall I found around a bend in the road. Disappointed somehow, I continued on as the artificial woods thinned and turned into rolling pasture. A second road joined mine, well-traveled and busy. Apparently I had come in the back way. I followed the traffic, taking an offshoot labeled visitors parking. Rounding a turn in the road, I saw the Kalamack estate.

The huge fortress of a building was a curious mix of modern institution and traditional elegance, with glass doors and carved angels on the downspouts. Its gray rock was softened by old trees and bright flower beds. There were several low buildings attached to it, but the main one rose three stories up. I brought the car to a halt in one of the visitor parking spots. The sleek vehicle next to mine made Francis's car look like a toy from the bottom of a cereal box.