A Wishing Moon Read online

  “I see where you’re going with this, Mom.” Elizabeth helped herself to a second piece of French toast; her perfect figure not in keeping with her appetite. “Our involvement will not go unnoticed by the killer.”

  “Absolutely. His first thought will be that the psychic who found the body will more than likely be able to identify him. We must put up a ward to keep him or anyone else who would do us harm from coming onto this property.”

  Angelique stood up and announced, “I’ll begin gathering the supplies, Nanette. Time is of the essence.”

  “I know this is Christmas Eve, and what we’d rather be doing is baking, decorating and making eggnog. But I can’t stress to you how imperative it is that we put a wall of protection around this house.” No one argued with her. While Angelique readied all the equipment they would need, Evangeline hurried up to check on Arabella.

  When she came to the closed door of the room, Evangeline could hear Arabella crying. She eased the door open, went in and curled up on the bed next to her heartbroken cousin. “Don’t give up. Maybe there’s an explanation.”

  “I’m not giving up, he may need help.” Evangeline could barely understand the words spoken into the pillow.

  “Sit up, so I can talk to you.” All of a sudden, Evangeline felt older than her cousin. Arabella scooted back until she could rest against the headboard. Her beautiful face was tear-streaked and swollen.

  “You have to remember, he may not even understand what is happening to him. He met you in a dream. Some power has linked the two of you together for a reason.”

  “I have told myself the same thing, Evangeline. I can’t believe he is the type of person who would betray a commitment. If he is engaged, what we have is not real to him. More importantly, I must know what has happened to him.” She got off the bed and went to the sink to wash her face.

  Evangeline followed her into the bathroom. “Grandmother is about to make witch bottles and put out red brick dust. She seems to think the killer will come after us when he hears we helped discover the bodies.”

  Arabella turned and looked at her cousin. “Wow, this is turning into some holiday isn’t it?”

  Evangeline smiled with typical teenage bravado. “Yea, the life of a witch is never boring. I wouldn’t want to be anything else.”

  * * * *

  Angelique and Elizabeth prepared the witch bottles. They took plain canning jars and filled them with sharp objects: nails, straight pins and pieces of a broken glass. Then, they added rosemary, cactus spines and rose thorns. Finally, they finished off with a mixture of red wine and a few drops, each, of their own blood and urine.

  “I used to think this was so gross,” Elizabeth said.

  “This combination is a very powerful barrier to evil,” the older woman said while attaching twine to the neck of the jar.

  Nanette walked in. “Sweetie, we won’t be hanging these jars,” she explained when noticing what Angelique was doing. “We will bury them. If he were to find one of these jars and destroy it, well that would never do. How many did you fix?”

  “Nine,” Elizabeth answered. “Will that be enough?”

  “Yes, three times three—very powerful. We will space them out all around the perimeter of the property. When you have them ready, I want you two to walk with me as we put out the red brick dust. Bring a shovel and we’ll bury these at the same time.” Nanette got her cane and they exited the back door to begin the ritual.

  Elizabeth got a shovel and the three of them headed to the back boundary of Arabella’s land. She owned twelve acres and the back of the property bordered Cypress Creek. They had to go slow, because Nanette was slow. She instructed them to bury the first bottle, and then she began. Angelique handed her a gallon bag of red brick dust. She took out a hand full and started to walk.

  “Ateh malkuth ve-gevurah, ve-gedulah le-olahm amen. Creator of heaven and earth, God and Goddess, Lord and Lady, Mother and Father of all life. Hear my cry, hear my plea. Protect this land. Protect this house. Protect all of this household. I call upon those whom you have created and given power, Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Uriel. I call upon the Watchtowers, the Guardians. I call upon the Watchtowers of the East, element of Air. I call upon the Watchtowers of the South, element of Fire. I call upon the Watchtowers of the West, element of Water. I call upon the Watchtowers of the North, element of Earth. Allow no one to come over this boundary who would do harm. Allow no enemy to cross this barrier. Stop the feet of those who would do ill. Turn back any who would attempt evil against us. My will be done. So mote it be.”

  As she talked, she walked, and repeated the same prayer over and over again.

  Elizabeth could tell this was taking a lot out of her mother. She watched as her steps slowed and she became short of breath; still Nanette pressed on.

  They walked the entire outer edge of the twelve acres. She and Angelique buried all nine witch bottles and Nanette spread bag after bag of red brick dust. When they were through, they had to help Nanette back to the house. On either side of her, they walked her back until she literally fell into the recliner. “I feel better now,” she announced. In a few moments, she dropped off to sleep.

  * * * *

  Jade opened his eyes to his new surroundings. The room seemed to be much the same as the one at the hospital, except this one was painted a pale shade of lavender. The overhead lighting still buzzed monotonously and the machines keeping his heart beating made the same continual hum. His life had been reduced to a few square feet of misery. This time, however, someone had been nice enough to turn on a TV. Jade’s eyes were drawn to the old set hanging from the ceiling where Bob Barker loudly proclaimed, The Price Is Right. Soon, he saw his own face come on the screen. The news reporter might as well be reading his eulogy. He listened as they listed his accomplishments and he listened to them talk about what could have been. He saw his Chief of Staff, Reese Philips, stand before the press corp and declare that no more could be done for him and a special election would have to be called to select someone to fill the rest of his term. Jade watched his friend wipe away tears, turn his back on the camera and walk away.

  Damn, he needed a drink. He was so thirsty. His mouth felt like the Sahara desert. He longed for an ice chip or a sip of cool water. Fat chance of that happening—since he couldn’t swallow. God, why didn’t you just let me die? he screamed silently. But wait, something had happened, something pleasant had happened. Then he remembered his dream. He had told the girl his name and where he had been taken. She had told him her name was Arabella. Arabella, he thought to himself, what a beautiful name. Her name, however, wasn’t nearly as beautiful as she. If she really existed, would she find him? Did he want her to find him, considering his condition? The answer—probably…no. He would rather she not see him this way. What had possessed him to ask her to find him?

  The door to his room opened and two people entered. A doctor and a nurse stood at the foot of his bed and gazed down at him. He met their eyes, but they did not attempt to engage him in conversation. “He’s all alone, huh? No relatives, no girl friend, only the people who worked for him?”

  The nurse glanced at a clipboard in her hand. “His chart said Reese Phillips should be contacted if his condition worsens, he’s the only contact. I understand Mr. Lansdale’s fiancé left her ring on the bed and has not returned. Mr. Phillips requested we not let that particular bit of information get out. There’s not much chance we will even have the opportunity, the public is fickle and the press has stopped calling.”

  “Pity.” The doctor came over to him and shone a light in his eyes. Reflex made him blink. “So, nobody’s home.”

  Jade wanted to scream at them that he could understand every damn word the bastards were saying. The next statement that came out of the doctor’s mouth sent cold chills down his paralyzed spine. “We will give the situation a little time, but if his name drops off the radar and a number of weeks go by and nobody comes to check on him—this one may be dispensable. After all, who
would question his death? Who would begrudge this guy just letting go? He’s young, he’s strong, every organ is in great shape, but his brain can’t communicate with his body. Give our contact a call and tell them what’s up. In a couple of weeks, or so, we may have some merchandise for him.”

  With that horrific announcement, the pair left the room.

  Suddenly faced with the likelihood of his own demise, Jade Landale wanted to live.

  * * * *

  After putting out the red brick dust and the witch bottles, Nanette took a nap. The rest of the clan began preparing for Christmas and Yule festivities. Elizabeth baked cookies and made a chocolate fudge cake. Angelique made chicken with dressing and a sweet potato casserole. Arabella and Evangeline put up a tree and nestled dozens of brightly wrapped presents beneath its green boughs.

  Every time Arabella thought about Jade, she trembled. During a break, she’d got back on the computer and looked at the engagement picture one more time. If today weren’t Christmas Eve, she would have called the girl—a Kate Thompson. Her parents’ names were in the engagement announcement and Arabella had gone so far as to track down a telephone number for them. She was sorely tempted to call on the pretense she knew Jade and was enquiring about his condition after the fall. All in all, this might be the next best step she could think of. She’d tried to call Jade’s former office, but either they had closed for the holidays or had been permanently shut down. Her brain told her just to let well enough alone, but her heart demanded she see this thing through. She promised herself she would do just that as soon as the holidays were behind them—if she could stand to wait that long.

  Most of the food they were preparing was for Christmas Day dinner, but Angelique prepared a Seafood Jambalaya for their supper. Along with crusty French bread and a rum-raisin bread pudding, the meal was finally complete. Heavenly smells were wafting through the French Country kitchen when a knock sounded at the front door. Elizabeth went to answer it, with a knowing smile of recognition on her face.

  “Detective Garrison, please come in,” she invited with a sultry warm hint in her voice. The man stepped warily through the door as if he were expecting to be ambushed. Arabella saw Elizabeth hide a smile as she appreciated his tall, sexy body and wavy, thick, brown hair. Uh-oh…trouble.

  * * * *

  “Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.” Elizabeth just couldn’t seem to help herself. He liked her, she could read his thoughts like the morning newspaper. But he was a little afraid of her too—well, that could be remedied with a few kisses.

  Garrison followed her into the kitchen and accepted a mug of thick eggnog. “You ladies are very nice, and I wouldn’t want you to be hurt by the negative things people say when they don’t understand or don’t have all the information. I’ll have to admit, all the conjecture that is floating around about you and this case has thrown me a curve. So, I’ve come for some answers.”

  “Sit, Mr. Garrison.” Nanette commanded. “Tell us what you would like to know.”

  By the look on his face, Elizabeth could tell that Nanette intimidated him. “Call me Tyler, if you’d like, all of you.” He met their eyes, one by one. “I need to understand what happened at the Townsend’s yesterday. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful for the information, but right now I have no evidence to point me in any direction, but at the five of you.” Clearing his throat, he continued. “Now, I have enough sense to know none of you are responsible, or at least that’s what my gut is telling me, but I need more help. I need something concrete to work with. I want to understand.”

  None of the rest of them knew what to say, but Elizabeth burst out laughing. “You are just too cute for words. I am grateful for your superior gut, Tyler. My family and I would not appreciate being labeled suspects, not after our willingness to assist you in your investigation.”

  He sipped his eggnog, appearing to be deep in thought. “First of all, tell me again how you knew where to find the bodies.”

  Arabella spoke up. “This whole thing started with me. When Rachel realized Kathy and Lea were missing, she came to me. You had told her it was too soon to file a missing person’s report and she didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t stand just sitting around and doing nothing and she remembered my family has…uh…powers.”

  Detective Garrison interrupted Arabella. “Powers, you say. Do you know people in Wimberley say you are witches?”

  “I am familiar with that description, yes.” Arabella admitted. “The label doesn’t offend us, Tyler. Most people have an erroneous definition of the word witch, but in our case it’s an accurate description.”

  They watched in amusement as the color drained from his face. Elizabeth took up the explanation. “Don’t faint, detective. We won’t stick you in the oven and Hansel you. We are not your HBO kind of scary, baby killing witches. We are the kinder, gentler, garden-variety, hedge-witch type.”

  “There are types?” He found his voice.

  Nanette chimed in, “It’s okay, Tyler. Let me see if I can alleviate some of your worry. We are not devil worshiping Satanists. Nor are we Wiccan. We are a family who has unique powers that we were born with. Powers which can come to your aid, if you will allow us to assist you.”

  He sat his cup down and got out his notebook as if he were going to write down what she said. “It would probably be best if you don’t write all of this down, honey.” Nanette cautioned. “People are not very accepting of our abilities. Let us tell you what we know and what we think you should do next. What you do with the information we give you is entirely up to you.” He folded his notebook back up, put in his pocket and waited.

  “Arabella here,” she pointed to her granddaughter, “has some, what you might call…psychic ability. She can touch items and get mental pictures of the person to whom the item belongs. Sometimes she can get an idea of what the person was doing the last time they held the object, for example.”

  “Grandmother’s right,” Arabella confirmed. “The day Rachel Townsend came to see me she brought Kathy’s sunglasses and Lea’s doll. I touched them and sensed they had met with foul play. I felt fear and panic and I saw Kathy get hit forcefully by someone, but I could not see her attacker. Then I took a crystal pendulum and I used it to read a map to see if I could determine which way she had been taken.” Detective Garrison watched Arabella intently.

  “Go ahead,” he urged her.

  “The pendulum proved to be frustrating; it seemed to be telling me she didn’t go anywhere. This turned out to be true, but at the time, I could make no sense of it all.”

  Elizabeth picked up the story next. “My little girl has many other talents, but in the area of psychic ability—she can’t hold me a candle to run by. Where she hears whispers, I hear shouts, and where she sees snippets of information, I get reels of movie quality cinematic revelations.’ She watched the detective’s eyes widen. “And yes, I can read your mind, you naughty boy.”

  The detective had the good grace to blush because he had been thinking what a beautiful mouth this woman had and how he would like to kiss her to see if it tasted as good as it looked. He cleared his throat and ignored the comment. “What did you find when you went over to the Townsend’s, Elizabeth?” She smiled as he said her name, because she could tell he liked the way it rolled off his tongue.

  “At Arabella’s request, we went over right after we arrived. I began to relive what had happened in the Townsend home. I saw that Kathy had allowed her attacker to enter the back kitchen door. He did not have to break in.” When he heard that bit of information, Detective Garrison got his pad back out and wrote it down.

  “You’re right,” he acquiesced. “We did not find any sign of forced entry.”

  “I don’t know if she had the door open because she was calling the dog and he just took the opportunity to force himself in, or if she willingly opened the door for him because she knew him. That information is blocked by the flood of horror and panic when Kathy realized she and her daughter were
in danger. One thing I do know, the attacker killed the little white dog. I definitely picked up that image from his mind. He thought about the dog several times while he subdued Kathy. The man hates animals.”

  “What else can you tell me?”

  “I saw Kathy try to get Lea to run,” Arabella interrupted her mother’s story. “I also saw him catch the little girl and then I sensed he made Kathy carry her out of the yard.”

  “You can’t give me a description of the killer or a name?” The detective asked hopefully.

  “No,” Elizabeth sighed. “And it’s odd. I get no picture of him at all. For some reason he seems to be cloaked. I don’t know whether to take that literally, or figuratively, but no image of him comes through whatsoever. Honestly, I’ve never experienced another reading like this.”

  “I’m finding the whole thing kind of strange,” the detective admitted. “Did you see him kill them?”

  Elizabeth looked down at her hands. “I haven’t shared this information with anyone. I know he hit them with some type of club.”

  “You are right. They both died from blunt force trauma. We haven‘t found the murder weapon, yet. Now, tell me how did you know where the bodies were?” He leaned forward with an obvious mix of fascination and excitement.

  “I can give you some insight there, Detective Garrison.” His attention turned to the elegant woman of color. “I do not have the same gift Elizabeth and Arabella have. My gift is not so pleasant.” Elizabeth watched as the detective raised one expressive brow.

  “I was born with the ability to see those who have passed on. Sometimes they look as real to me as you do; I have been known to mistake them for the living. Other times, it is more obvious they are dead. I have encountered transparent beings, people in various stages of death, and by that, I mean people who look like their body did at the time of death. Kathy and Lea fit into this last category. As I stood at the back door of the Townsend home while Elizabeth was getting a feel for the emotions of the place, I saw Kathy and Lea walk from the woods up to the edge of the yard. I saw them as if they were alive, yet horribly beaten and bloody. They hadn’t abandoned the state of their body as it had been in death. I saw their disfigured faces and the dark bruises and Lea’s misshapen skull, which she received at the hands of her attacker.” Angelique spoke so calmly and softly, a sharp contrast to the terrible things she described.