Bitch Witch (13 page)

“No,” he managed, his eyes wide as he managed to dislodge his key and kick the door shut behind him. “That’s actually incredibly cool. I guess you really are a witch.”

Sarah laughed. “Are you just figuring that out?”

Paul led the way into the kitchen, flipping on light switches. He turned on the hot water tap and went to the cupboard, selected a small glass and grabbed the salt shaker. “Come here,” he said, motioning to the sink. “I’m making salt water for your mouth.” He tested the heat of the water on his wrist, filled the glass and unscrewed the top of the salt shaker.

Sarah cringed at the amount he poured into the water. “That’s going to be disgusting.”

“Wo-man up, witchy-woman,” he said, swirling the water in the glass to mix it. He handed it to her. “Swish it around, and use all of it.”

Scowling, Sarah took the glass. The first mouthful burned, likely more than it would for the average person. Salt had light properties and her mouth had so recently been full of dark matter. Eyes watering, she spit the first mouthful into the sink. Paul leaned against it, watching the blood-tinged water swirl down the drain as she took another mouthful. It surprised Sarah to sense that the sight of that little bit of blood upset him.

“I had a really bad time in Afghanistan.”

Sarah didn’t dare look at him. This was the first information he’d ever offered.

“After it was over I kept having a bad time. I’d dream about it, but sometimes in my dreams things went differently. Nobody died. We won the battle. I wanted it to be true. Some days I’d pretend that’s how it had been. I’d pretend so hard that when doctors talked to me about it, I’d refuse to admit the truth. I got so good at pretending there was a time I couldn’t tell what was real and what was what I wished.”

Sarah spat more pink-tinged water and set the glass inside the sink. Paul continued to lean against the sink, both hands squeezing the edge of the granite counter. She put a hand over Paul’s, her fingers covering the horse’s nose.

“When that explosion hit that truck at Target I thought it was a bomb. You were on the ground and when I spoke to you, I don’t know. I knew it wasn’t a bomb then. You were so matter of fact and the things you said were almost funny. It took the edge off for me. Even after you left later I kept looking at the front of my dad’s car, reassuring myself that you’d been real. I did have to come back and see you, because I wanted to make sure I hadn’t imagined you.

“The first time I came here you were so off the wall with the Popsicles and all. I made a copy of your insurance card and came back again as an excuse to see you…”

Shit.
Sarah still didn’t dare look at him. It
was
the spell.

“That time I came I heard you screaming—I was shaking by the time I got upstairs. I don’t know what I thought; you sounded terrified. But there you were standing over a box just
wailing
. I think I’ve done that myself, when I’ve heard a loud noise and flashed back. I knew I could help you. It felt good. It felt real. It reminded me of when I used to be capable, when I was an EMT. I was good at it. Once. But then you did all that weird stuff, and I had to get away. I thought maybe I needed to go back to the hospital. That my mind had completely snapped.”

Sarah looked at him then. “I’m so sorry, Paul. So sorry.”

“I didn’t want to go back. I blocked everyone from calling my phone and thought maybe if I just took a break, you know—anyway, that’s why I stayed in the park. I mean, I didn’t lie to you. I didn’t have enough money, but I could have called someone. It’s just that ever since the hospital my family has been really protective. It was a big thing for them to agree to let me come pick up the stupid car. They gave me prepaid credit cards, so I couldn’t get taken advantage of, they said. But I had to use all that to get the car repaired. Sometimes it feels like they’re more worried about their money than me.”

“Damn.” Sarah almost hugged him. She moved to do it, but changed her mind and quickly backed off.

“Anyway the only reason I called you when I was in jail was yours was the only number I knew.” Paul laughed, a whispery sound. “Since I’d deleted their numbers. And I like being here. It’s peaceful. There’s no pressure on me. I thought maybe we could do each other some good. The truth is I figured you were a little bit nuts too.”

Sarah leaned against the sink beside him. “Yeah, well, I think you have that right, Paul.”

He let go of the sink and dropped an arm across her shoulders. “Tonight at dinner when you did the spoon thing, I was worried. But then I saw nothing unusual. I mean some dust I guess, but I
knew
that was real. Then at the movie theater, that kid. Man, he made me mad. You know I see punks like that who are just looking for trouble while good men die. It’s such a kick in the—you know some people give everything, and they don’t expect anything in return, except maybe a little human decency.” There were tears in his voice. “I’m glad you stopped me though. I might have really hurt him. I don’t know. But when you did what you did to that kid, in front of all those witnesses—well, I knew then that I wasn’t hallucinating that unless the entire theater was. Shoot. You blew my mind.”

Sarah covered her face with her hands.
See how stupid it is to tell? Idiot!

Paul moved in front of her and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her not into a romantic embrace, but a simple hug punctuated by a rough sob on his part. “Don’t. It helped. The Coke spill clinched it for me. I
saw
that. I
saw
you reverse that spill like I might grab something I dropped out of the laundry basket. It looked as normal for you as it would be for me to nab a sock before it hit the floor. I’m not crazy.”

“I’m sorry, Paul. It’s kind of an unspoken rule not to tell regular people. I shouldn’t have.”

“No! Everyone needs help and a friend, Sarah. I’m not saying I’m okay. That kid at the theater, man. I need to get those feelings under control. You do too, though, you know? You shouldn’t just make some dude grab his junk and hold it in public.”

“I know.”

“But the Coke thing was cool. Can you do it again? It’s one of those things you can do without using dark matter, right?” Paul let go of Sarah, grabbed the glass of half-used salt water out of the sink and whipped it across the kitchen. It hit the fridge and shattered all over the floor.

After a moment of stunned silence she said, “You are so cleaning that.”

“You’re not very good,” he said. “I thought you’d stop it or maybe you can put it back together or something.”

“I didn’t know you were going to do it!”

“So time travel is out?” Paul said, chuckling. “Or can you take us back a few seconds and nab that glass before it hits?”

“Yeah, right.”

“Dang.” He scratched his cheek. “For a second I thought it was cool to have a witch friend. Now, not so much. Kinda lame.”

Sarah smiled at him. “Everyone’s a critic!”

“Good night, Sarah.” Paul gave her a half hug and kissed her cheek. Sarah closed her eyes, smiling even wider. It wasn’t until they’d departed, Paul cleaning broken glass, and Sarah heading upstairs to her room, that she realized that kiss was sweet and needed, but Paul’s lips didn’t feel like anything more than her aunt’s once had.

S
arah slumped in the church pew, trying not to worry the sore spots inside her mouth with her tongue. The salt water had helped. This morning she had used it again and it hadn’t burned as badly.

The congregation moved to kneel and Sarah scooted forward onto the cushioned kneeler. A guy in the pew in front of her kept half his butt on the seat.
Cheater.

Since she’d scored the last row this week, Sarah scooted back a bit and copied him.

Yesterday Paul said he’d go to church with her, but when she stuck her head into his room this morning he’d answered everything with “Huh-uh.” Except the hike. He gave a definite “Mmmm” when she asked if he’d want to go back to the gristmill in the daylight and hike around.
Maybe it’s time to put that much behind me. It’s not like I believe in ghosts.
The thought made her snort. The guy in front of her glanced back and Sarah looked around, pretending it hadn’t been her.

Eyeing the sunshine lighting up the stained glass windows overhead, Sarah contemplated the love spell. The thought of Paul leaving—and he would leave once his dad’s car was fixed—and going back to Oklahoma made her sad. It wasn’t because she would be broken hearted and need to follow him, but because every day she looked forward to spending time with him.

Face it. He’s my first real friend.

Maybe I could find him a job here! He said he couldn’t get an EMT job after being in the psychiatric hospital, plus the sight of blood upsets him. But I bet I could—

That sounds exactly like obsessive casting to keep your boyfriend close, doesn’t it, stupid?

She groaned. An old lady and the guy with his backside half on the pew in front of her turned to look. Sarah stared at the missal, pretending to read along with the priest’s droning.

This is so boring!

Like witch ceremonies aren’t?

Maybe that’s why I’m so at home here…

Of course dark matter didn’t congregate here. It dusted over several people, and a few handfuls waivered around one of the altar boys. Some lay on the floor around the confessionals, and a small cloud of it hovered over one of the shrines full of candles, but nothing like at a witch ceremony. The entire purpose of those was to draw dark matter closer to use. Aunt Lily had hosted them at vacation destinations. The witches who came would cast on themselves and each other and leave looking like they’d been to a discount plastic surgeon in a foreign country.

By the time the congregation started their slow progression toward the altar for communion, Sarah had had enough penance and snuck out the back with half a dozen other sinners. A quick swing past a couple drive-thru’s netted breakfast, chai lattes, and sandwiches to take on the hike. Sarah got two of everything. If she was going to eat like a hog, so was Paul.

Twenty minutes later she pulled up in front of her house and parked her Jeep behind a Shrewsbury police car.

No!

She looked up and down the street, but nobody parked in front of Sarah’s property unless they had broken down or were going there. She took her time getting out of the Jeep in her dress, tugging her purse over her shoulder, and gathering the food and drinks, allowing her mind time to race over what this might be about and should she or shouldn’t she tell the truth about whatever they wanted. Sarah made it halfway up the sidewalk before she could see through the greenery growing over the porch. Two cops stood by the front door.

Dammit!

This would surely take a big cast to get out of.

And I just went to church!

Sarah couldn’t get a good look at them until her feet were almost to the steps. What she saw made her almost trip.

It wasn’t two cops. It was one cop with Paul.

Shit! What did he do?
Both men turned away from the door and waited for her. The cop took a step closer, but Paul simply watched her, dressed to the nines in a suit.

Oh, he better NOT have gotten that out of the attic!

But she knew he had to have.

Placing only one foot on the bottom step she said, “What’s going on?”

The cop said, “Ms. Archer? Do you know a Paul Longfellow?”

Sarah put another foot on the step and paused to look at Paul.
What the heck?

“Yes,” she said. “I know Paul.”

“Thank, God,” Paul whispered. “Do you know where he is?”

Sarah frowned at him and shot a glance at the cop.
Is he pretending to be someone else? Crap. What kind of trouble did he get into?

“I’m not sure where he is,” she said, holding Paul’s gaze.
Help me out here. A clue would be nice.
“I just got home from church.” It was worth going just to sound so damn innocent.