Caterpillar, a Paranormal Romance With a Touch of Horror (19 page)

I wasn’t exactly sure what to say.  I hadn’t fully come to terms with the existence of witches and demons and whatever else was out there
at all,
to say nothing about how strange and surreal it seemed to be speaking freely about it with another person. 

Letting him do most of the talking seemed the wiser course of action.  “What makes you say that?”

“Well to start with, the symbol that was drawn at each of the scenes, the swirly vortex thing, is a pagan symbol for rebirth.  According to the Wiccan Grimoire, it’s used in numerous Wiccan rituals. It—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I interrupted, shaking my head.  “Ok, first of all what is the Gr- Grim- what?”

“Grimoire.  It’s a book of magic that witches use to cast spells, invoke spirits, stuff like that.”

“Are witches, um, like, supernatural creatures?”  I felt silly even saying something like that, but I supposed I’d get used to it.  I had eight more lives to try, anyway.

“Witches, as well as warlocks and sorcerers, are humans that call on demons to empower them to accomplish certain things.  The more a witch is willing to give up of herself, the more powerful she becomes.”

“So there’s no such thing as a good witch?”

“Some may start out that way, just a little misguided.  Having the power to affect change, to bend life and people to your will, is highly addictive.  Witchcraft is not something that you dabble in and then quit.  I gets its claws into you eventually.  And it doesn’t let go.”

“What would a witch be trying to accomplish by killing these people and leaving them for me to find?”

“Well, I don’t have all the answers, but I think the end result is to resurrect a very powerful demon named Amon and become his vessel.”

“Amon!  That’s what was written at- at—”

“Yes, Jessica Nolan’s crime scene,” he provided when I stumbled over the words.

“So why Amon?”

“He’s considered to be the Marquis of Hell.  Very powerful.  He has the ability to tell both the past and the future, as well as procure love.”

“Why would anyone want to be possessed by a demon?  Why not just let him come back as is?”

“Well, probably because he looks like a wolf with a serpent’s tail.”

“Oh.”   I didn’t ask how Tegan came by that information, partly because I wasn’t sure I
wanted
to know.  Despite my hesitation to learn the whole truth, I still had that underlying certainty, that soul-deep knowledge that
whatever
Tegan was, he was mostly good.

“So, why me?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet.  But I’m working on it.”

That was good to know.  I thought of something else he’d mentioned, much earlier.  “At my aunt’s, you said they found me.  Who were you talking about?”

Tegan paused, watching me like always.  Finally, speaking very slowly, he said, “Demons who know the prophecy.”

“What prophecy?”

“A prophecy that was written thousands of years ago that says a woman in your line will hold the power to bring light to the darkness.”  He paused as if considering whether or not to continue.  “And every demon in hell will do whatever he can to prevent that.”

In other words I ranked very high on a demonic hit list.  “Is that what the curse is?  My family’s curse?”

“I think your family’s curse is somehow tied in with the prophecy, yes, but I don’t think they’re one and the same.”

“So that’s why I’m finding all these bodies?”

Tegan nodded his head.  “I think someone, maybe a witch, discovered who you are and is now using the value of your identity in conjunction with the ritual to invoke Amon.”

“Why is my identity such a secret?  It’s not like I’ve been hiding for the past twenty-four years.”

“Actually, it’s almost exactly like that.  It seems like you’d be easy to find, but the women in your line are…well…
cloaked
I guess you could say, until you turn twenty-four.  I don’t know how that works.”

The jingle of my cell phone interrupted the conversation.  I wondered who might be calling at such a late hour.  When I saw the caller’s name and number, I remembered that it was bingo night. 

“Hi, Punkin’.”  Mamaw was home early.  She usually didn’t get in until the wee hours.  That could only mean one thing.  Her winning streak was over.

“Hey, Mamaw.  How was bingo?”

“Well I don’t mind to tell you that Millie Watkins won three cards in a row.  That old woman cheats,” she declared, her words liberally seasoned with disgust.  I wanted to laugh every time she called Millie Watkins “old woman”.  Millie was exactly two years older than Mamaw.  They went to school together.  There was no love lost between them then and the situation had not improved with age, maturity or bingo night. 

“Maybe you’ll catch her next time.”

“She’s practiced for years.  Now she’s so good no one can catch her.”

“She may not know you’re on to her, though.”

“Of course she does.  I’ve told her a hunerd times she’s going to split hell wide open if she don’t change her ways.  But she don’t care, so long as she wins.”  I’m sure those would’ve been interesting conversations.  Millie was a firecracker, too, almost as saucy as Mamaw.  I doubted she tolerated lectures from Mamaw very well.

“Well, God sees all, Mamaw.  You need to quit worrying about Millie.”

“Now, I don’t need no preaching from a toddler, smarty pants.  Why, I’ve—“

“I know, Mamaw.  I’m sorry.  I’m just tired.  It’s been a long day.”  Time for a subject change.  “Hey, have you talked to Carter?”

“Carter?  No.  I suppose it’s been, oh, a week or better since that rascal’s called.  No doubt he’s up to no good.  I love that young’un, but he could find trouble in a one-man town.”

“He’s trying to straighten up.  I was just wondering if he’d been around to see you.”

“No.  When you talk to him, you tell him he better get on over to see his Mamaw.”

“I will, Mamaw.”  I sat quietly listening to static for a minute.  You had to let Mamaw get around to the reason for her call all on her own.  It just didn’t do to prompt her.

“Well, I was callin’ to see if you’d been by the house tonight.”

“No.  Why?”

“I didn’t think it was you.  You and your brother know that everything has its proper place.  You’d never come to my house and leave it a mess.”

“Do you think someone’s been in your house?”  A little red flag of alarm popped up in my head. 

“A few things are a tad out of place.  Nothing’s broken or missin’, mind you, just a few things moved around.”

“Mamaw, maybe you should get out of the house and come over here.”

“Oh, Punkin’, you worry too much.  Nobody wants nothin’ to do with an old woman like me.  I just don’t like a mess, you know.”

“I know, Mamaw.  I’d feel better if you’d come over here, though.”

“No, honey, not tonight.  I’m gonna call that old woman and remind her I’m wise to her tricks.”

“Promise you’ll call if you need me?”

“Alright, Punkin’.  You get some rest.  Come by when you can.  You know I love havin’ you.”

“I’ll see you in the next few days, ok?”

“That’s fine, honey.  Night night.”

“Night, Mamaw.  Lock up tight and I love you.”

“You, too, sugar.”

I closed my phone and sat debating the seriousness of some of Mamaw’s things being moved.  Although she was extremely particular about where things lived, she was getting up there in years and she often just forgot where she last put things. 

I asked Tegan what he thought of someone being in her house.  He seemed to think they might’ve been looking for me, but if they’d wanted to hurt Mamaw, they’d already have done it.  I imagined that was probably true and tried not to worry about it.  The last thing Mamaw needed was
my kind
of trouble, which is what she’d get if I went over there. 

“I heard you mention Carter,” Tegan said very casually.  I knew he was perceptive enough to realize I’d had enough supernatural shock and awe for one night and was ripe for a subject change.  “Even though I don’t like him for the murders—obviously—I can’t voice my true suspicions about the perp—obviously—so we’ll need to clear Carter in a more…
conventional
way.” 

“Such as,” I prompted. 

“Hopefully a good solid alibi.  If not that I’ll have to think of something else.  But he’s going to have to turn himself in if he has any intention of being cleared of the murders.”

That sounded much simpler than what I knew it to be.  “I can’t even get Carter to
call me back,
much less turn himself in.  I’ve been trying to get a hold of him, but…”

“Well, just keep trying.  Leave him messages.  Every day if you have to.  Or several times a day.  I don’t care what it takes, just get him to me.”

“Alright,” I said with a sigh.  I rubbed my brow bone, the ever present dull ache escalating, sending me a message that I’d had enough.   “I’ll try.” 

Tegan stood, obviously having seen me massaging my forehead.  He missed nothing. “Why don’t you get some sleep?  We’ll talk tomorrow.”     He looked down at me, a frown marring his brow.  “Does Newly know about…anything?”

“No!”

Tegan shook his head, but said nothing as he walked to the door.  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.  Try to get a hold of Carter.”

“I will.”

“Lock up.”  And then, as usual, he was gone.

Chapter Seventeen

Thursday.

The morning was colder than average.  I padded into the kitchen to start the coffee then went to get my attaché so I could see what my schedule looked like for the day.  Only my attaché wasn’t right by the door where I always left it.  Events from the day before unrolled in my head, in them the memory that I had left everything but my purse at the open house.  Crap.

I punched the office speed dial number into my cell and listened as it rang.  Rainn wasn’t always punctual so I wasn’t surprised when the service picked up.  I left word for Rainn to call me when she got in.  I hated to call her cell phone.  I never knew what she might be up to, who might answer her phone or what kind of night she might’ve had. 

I walked back into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee to soothe me while I waited.  The phone rang just as I was opening the cabinet.  It was Rainn.

“Mornin’, Ms. Columbo.  How is your crime solving self this morning?”

I poured myself a big mug of coffee.  “I haven’t
solved
anything.  Discovery seems to be my primary role.”

“Whatever.  Close enough.  Is that what you couldn’t tell me yesterday?  Oops, you did it again?”

“Yeah.  I didn’t know what and when the cops would want me share any details.  You know how it goes.”

“Just like in the movies,” she declared, awe evident in her voice.  Only Rainn would find it cool that I had developed a habit of stumbling on tortured and mutilated bodies in conjunction with an otherwise mundane job.

“
Not
just like in the movies.  It’s scary.  And sad.  And sometimes it stinks,
literally,
not to mention it’s probably slowly driving me insane.”