Bitch Witch (22 page)

H
enry sat next to Sarah on the sofa. With Kathleen on a wingback chair behind him, out of his direct line of vision, he had eyes only for Sarah again. She sat cross-legged, working on her second glass of wine and annihilating a huge slice of chocolate lasagna as Henry stroked her knee through a hole in her sweatpants. Kathleen sipped her wine and reminisced about Venice.

“Remember we rode a gondola? You sang
La Donna e Mobile
to me, and proposed under the Rialto Bridge.”

Sarah almost choked on her dessert. “You proposed?” she said through a mouthful of chocolate and whipped cream. “You said you’d never officially proposed!”

Henry’s dark eyes widened and he wiped a bit of whipped cream off Sarah’s lips with his thumb. “No, no, kitten. I said I never gave her a ring, so it wasn’t official. I wouldn’t lie to you!”

“Maybe it wasn’t official, but Henry has proposed to me—hmm—three times,” Kathleen said. “He used to say he was practicing for the real thing, once for every year we’ve been together, until he got it perfect.”

“You proposed
three
times?” Sarah whispered against his thumb.

“There were going to be four, total,” he said, looking guilty. The Jack Sparrow eyes had turned Edward Scissorhands-sad. “The fourth would have been the real one. But I never got to that one!”

“And the theme of each proposal was our first four dates! The first proposal was in the Grand Canal in Italy, because on our first real date we had Italian food. I actually went out with Paul that time. He’d made me eggplant parmesan, and Henry crashed our dinner. We always considered that our first date.”

Henry grinned, nodding in agreement. “I crashed their date and stole the girl. Paul was so mad.”

“I was not! I knew she was better for you!”

“No, you didn’t!” Henry said, laughing at his brother. “You just gave in graciously! You knew Kathleen didn’t want you.”

“I knew you two belonged together,” he corrected.

Sarah jutted her lower lip out. Henry quickly leaned in to kiss it, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry! You know you’re my kitten, don’t you?”

“Yeah, your second kitten,” muttered Paul.

“The second proposal was beneath the Eiffel Tower at night,” Kathleen continued, “because our second date was for French food. You gave me these diamond earrings from Tiffany’s in Paris, to go with the drop necklace you’d given me in Italy.”

Sarah couldn’t stop herself from looking at Kathleen. The woman tugged her earlobe out from beneath all the perfect hair to show off. The ostentatious earring looked like something Aunt Lily would have worn. Even in the lamplight of the living room the diamonds in the matching necklace were blinding.

Henry fingered Sarah’s bare, unpierced earlobe. “Hey,” he whispered. “There’s a Tiffany’s in Boston. I’ll get you anything you like. Everything you like.” He smiled and Sarah’s heart sank. She thought of Aunt Lily’s never-ending incoming gifts from besought men, of the way both Lily and her mother had used men, and her heart sank lower. Jewels and gems gathered dust in boxes and drawers all over the house. Why did she feel jealous of Kathleen’s? In a house full of treasures, why did she suddenly want more diamonds? She would never wear them.

From the other sofa Paul watched her, his brown eyes intense. Sarah knew exactly what he was thinking. He’d said it often enough.
It’s the spell, Sarah. He doesn’t love you. He loves Kathleen.

A suffocating band of pain squeezed Sarah’s heart.

It’s the spell. It’s all just a spell.

“Do you think it will be the same?” said Kathleen in a low voice. “If you give her diamonds and call her kitten, do you think it can ever be the same as what we’ve had, Henry?” She took another sip of her vinegary wine without a shudder and met Sarah’s eyes.

Sarah’s witch senses told her exactly what Kathleen was thinking.
“Do you? Whatever hold you have on him isn’t real.”
She turned her eyes to Henry’s and saw his confusion.

“
Chi su quel seno non liba amore!
” sang Kathleen, the Italian quite poor with her accent and lack of talent.

Whatever the words meant to Henry wiped confusion from his eyes. They crinkled at the corners as a smile lit his lips. Henry’s hand worrying the knee of Sarah’s pants moved as he twisted around to look at Kathleen.

Sarah’s spell spewed more facts.
Kathleen understands him like no other woman ever has. She drinks the exact same wines he does. He knows she thinks wine tastes like vinegar, but drinks it for him.

Chi su quel seno non liba amore!

Who on that bosom does not drink love!

Jealousy torched through Sarah. The pain in her heart turned to fiery anger.

No! She’s doing her own type of casting!

Regular bitches weren’t without their own kind of magic. Sarah refused to allow Kathleen’s poison words to affect Henry.
Drink love? Drink poison, you bitch!

A furious spell sizzled from Sarah’s heart and she pushed it free with a pleasured sigh, shivering from the thrill of it. A faint whistling sound cantered around the edges of the room, as if a demon had been released. It sounded similar to the sound in the Target parking lot weeks ago.

Sarah turned her eyes to meet Paul’s alarmed ones. Hot dark matter shot through the floorboards to help with the spell, warming the soles of Sarah’s feet right through the couch, snaking along her legs, touching her
there
and
there,
offering delicious rewards of approval as the spell circled the room.

“The third proposal was in Dubai, and Henry gave me a platinum bracelet that looks like jack-up rigs studded with diamonds. Our third date had been to meet his parents. We’d known then that we belonged together. We’re both from oil families, so we understand each other like a pair of jack-up rigs.” Kathleen swirled her glass of vinegar wine, once again meeting Sarah’s gaze.

She raised her glass to drain the last of it and both Paul and Sarah shouted as the spell hit, “Don’t drink it!”

Too late. She downed every drop.

MAYBE IT WAS the fact that both Sarah and Paul rushed her, or maybe it was the spell acting that fast, but Kathleen toppled backward with the chair, clutching her chest.

“Ah, Lord, Sarah. What did you do?” whispered Paul.

I didn’t mean it!

Like hell.

“What’s going on?” asked Henry, rising from the couch slowly.

“Call 911,” demanded Paul. Kathleen’s breath came in short gasps. Foamy spittle gathered in the corners of her lips.

Memories crashed over Sarah. The last months that she’d tried so hard to block, the months before they’d died. Dark matter had demanded complete sacrifice and complete obedience from both Aunt Lily and her mother. There had been so many innocent victims.

Strange men, lured into a hotel room and left almost lifeless, immobile and staring as the three of them packed to leave before anyone noticed.

Angry young wives at the front door, shouting into Aunt Lily’s laughing face. They hadn’t been so young when they left.

The little girl.
Sarah put her hand over her heart as she remembered. She’d been clever and bright, wearing a Batman shirt, waving a school form selling candy and wrapping paper. She happened to knock on the door when they needed her.
“Fate,”
Aunt Lily had laughed.
“Dark matter thinks of everything!”

“She looks like you did,”
said Sarah’s mother.

“The coloring and everything!”
said Aunt Lily as they leaned over her, petting her as they’d once doted and loved on Sarah.

But…but…
A shiver rippled through Sarah.
But when she left, she wasn’t clever and bright anymore.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shut out the memory.

Paul’s voice intruded. “Henry! Listen to me. Call an ambulance! Now!”

Sarah opened her eyes. Paul knelt beside Kathleen, trying to force her mouth open.

“I don’t understand! What’s going on?” asked Henry. He sounded half-asleep. He sounded bound into a spell.

Sarah dropped to her knees, staring at Kathleen.
She’s not clever and bright anymore.

“Sarah cast a spell on her! Dial the goddamn number now!” Kathleen’s body spasmed, her arms and legs rigid as her torso trembled beneath Paul’s hands.

“There’s no such thing as a spell,” said Henry, but he sounded doubtful and Sarah heard the clicking of his cell phone as he dialed.

Beneath her she sensed dark matter stirring. It stretched throughout the entire length of the house, like a languorous dragon waking.

Henry spoke into the phone in a wooden voice. He moved closer and bent over to peer at Kathleen, speaking into his phone. “Oh, dear God, something is wrong! What kind of poison? They want to know what kind?” he asked.

Paul looked at Sarah, but she couldn’t answer. Dark matter called to the night sky for more, licking her hands and feet with approval, distracting her.

“Kathleen Karrie, she’s twenty-nine, and I’m certain she’s not on drugs,” said Henry.

“Sarah!” Paul shouted at her. “Look at me! Is this who you are? You have a choice. Right now you have a choice. It will be gone soon, and too late. But right now, you still have a choice.”

She shook her head at him. There was never any choice. Not really. She’d been so stupid.

“Look at her! She won’t be okay. Is that what you want?”

She won’t be clever and bright anymore.

“Is this who you are?”

No.

“No,” Sarah whispered, still shaking her head. She did not want this. She did not want to be this.

“No!” she said it louder. “I don’t want this.” The heat licking its way over her skin turned sharp; beneath her, dark matter growled.
Too late. You’ve chosen.
“I changed my mind!” said Sarah, pushing to stand as the sharp touch on her skin heated, flaming over her like lit matches. “I said I changed my mind. It’s my right! I rescind and claim it for myself times
ten
! Fuck you!”

“Sarah, what are you doing?” said Paul. “What does that mean?”

The entire house shook, and a low rumble moved through it.

“What the hell?” said Henry.

Too late.
It growled through Sarah’s bones.
You’ve chosen.

Yes, I have, and I haven’t chosen you. Come what may. Bring it.

The house rumbled again, and the sound of glass falling and breaking echoed through it.

“Sarah! What’s going on? What does this mean?” Paul shouted at her. He held Kathleen across his lap. Henry sat beside them with tears streaming down his face.

Love of his life. Mother of the children he’d hoped to someday have. The only woman he ever wanted to marry.

Something inside Sarah, somewhere in the vicinity of her heart, twisted with new pain and broke. “It means I’ll never be clever and bright again.”