Witch Clan: Matriarchs by John Stormm (best beach reads of all time TXT) 📖

matter what he does or how hard he tries, she sees Lee, and poor Johnny is invisible to her. I'm thinking Dave sees another man in the house, though I fail to see how a seven year old boy could fit that description. My mother said he was not a very strong individual. Perhaps his drinking has become his primary problem."

"Your mother?" Willard asked. "She passed on years ago. How would she have known this?"

"She passed on the morning Johnny was born," she said. "But every so often, she shows up in my dreams with sound advice concerning him. I can't explain it any more than I can explain the sunrise, but I've learned to accept the fact and I've always been blessed for it."

"I think I understand," he said. "I had a dream I was visiting with my mum a few years ago and in the dream she had given me some good advice."

"Really?" she asked. "What advice did she give you?"

"It's kind of embarrassing, really," he said, blushing.

"Oh, come on," she prodded. "What did she tell you?"

"She told me I needed to consider getting a good woman in my life again," he said. "That was about a week or so before I replaced those front steps and that banister on your front porch."

"Mothers never seem to stop caring," she said. "I wish I could have met yours."

"But, if Dave's as bad off as you say," Willard pointed out, "won't Lorry and the baby be in dire straits as well? What can we do that will help everybody concerned?"

"I'll look into it tonight, dear," she said, "and then we'll make our plans to straighten out this mess."

"You're not going to take off on a broom or something, are you?" Willard asked.

"No, dear," she said, laughing. "If witches were supposed to fly broomsticks in modern America, God would never have told us to leave the driving to Greyhound. Now, would he?"

"I didn't know God so favored Greyhound," Willard said smiling, " though, I imagine the seats are a lot more comfortable."

* * *

Willard turned in for bed early. He had taken on some extra work with a contractor down at the union hall and needed to get an early start. The house was quiet, and Emma could work undisturbed. She munched a few hazelnuts while she set up her mother's old gazing bowl on the coffee table in the living room. A single candle lit the room, its lonely, flickering flame reflected in the surface of the water in the bowl. She centered herself and slowed her breathing and let her eyes relax on the water and searched for her grandson. A dark scowling visage was all too quickly replaced by another of wide eyed wonder that leapt at her out of the bowl, giving her a start. She lost the image for a moment and calmed herself to try again.

"Grandma, it's you," her grandson insisted.

"Yes, of course it is, sweetheart," she returned. "You about scared the life out of me jumping in my face like that."

"Sorry, Grandma," Johnny said. "I'm wishing I was home with you so bad."

"Honey, what's going on out there?" she asked.

"Everything I do is wrong," he said. "I try to be good, but it always comes out bad. I don't think Dave likes me anymore, and Mommy thinks I don't belong in her new family. I want to come home."

His last words came out at her with an overwhelming depth of longing that made her feel it as a physical burden. Along with it came a rush of painful memories so vivid that she feared she would be poisoned by the venom in them. It was as if Dave's tirade was directed towards her and his brutal kick hitting her in the stomach. It didn't hurt nearly as much as the names he called the boy. Johnny's panic for his baby sister's safety made her heart hammer in her breast, which then grew woefully heavy seeing the disapproval on Lorry's face. Of all the scenes that played before her eyes, underlying them all was that scowling, dark visage she saw in the beginning of her session.

Things could get a bit strange around Johnny at times, but somehow this seemed all blown out of proportion. He would not be imagining that kind of behavior from Dave. He would never expect that kind of treatment from people. Something was happening beyond too much alcohol to influence the situation to this degree. Johnny's actions with the deacon's boy were no indication of any deep seated problems on Johnny's part, nor his actions in behalf of his baby sister. What stood out, was that Lorry and Dave were completely blind to any good in her grandson. Whose face was that, scowling at her from the bowl? And how were they involved in this?

"Listen to me carefully, baby," she instructed her grandson. "Grandma, Grandpa and Leona all love you very much, and we know you belong with us. Your mommy had to learn that for herself. Your mommy and Dave have both got some troubles that are bigger than they can handle, and they don't know it's not you. So, you've got to promise Grandma something, sweetheart. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Grandma," he said. "I'll do anything you say."

"I know you will, sweetie," she said. "Do you have any good hiding places or friends you can run to if trouble comes?"

"I can hide in the field," he said. "And Deputy Kraft likes me too."

"Good. That'll be fine." she said. "I want you to promise me. Witches' honor. That when things start to get bad in the house or with Dave, that you will not get mad and not interfere in any way. I don't want you to hurt anybody and I don't want anybody hurting my boy. I want you to run and hide or run to Deputy Kraft's house when it gets bad. Om biggun tu?"

"I think so, Grandma," he said. "I'm to run and hide or run next door if things get bad. But, what if he tries to hurt Mommy or Linda?"

"That's the hard part, sweetheart," she said. "I didn't say it was going to be easy on you, dear, but you've got to trust your grandma. No matter what happens, you've got to promise me that if anybody hurts anybody, that you will have nothing to do with it at all and get away from it as fast as you can. Somebody is trying to do bad things and blame you, sweetheart. If you're not there, then that can't happen. I will come and bring you home as soon as school lets out for the summer. Now, do I have your word?"

"Yes, Grandma," he said, placing his fingers below his eyes. "Witches' honor."

"Your Grandpa Willard and I are very proud of our boy," she said and closed the session. The scowling face in the background lingered a moment longer in the bowl and then was replaced by her mother’s face.

“You’re learning well, my dear,” Ella said. “There is always more to life than what immediately avails itself to meet the eye.”

“Who is doing this to them?” she asked.

“Surely, you didn’t think the boy’s dragon would be so easily defeated,” her mother replied. “Now, did you? The Vough and Behir were only minions. The good news is that if you can get Johnny away from there, and clear David’s head a bit, their problems will alleviate, though, as I said before, he is not a strong man. Remove the boy, and the dragon will have no further use in meddling with their lives.”

“We’ve got a few months before I can get him back,” she said. “But why is this dragon such a problem? And what can I do about it?”

“Dragons and unicorns are ancient enemies, dear,” her mother replied. “The symbolism shouldn’t have been lost on you, there. And what witches have done for centuries beyond counting, is give sage advice and wait for all things to come together as they should. I believe you have done that, dear. Trust him as much as he trusts you. After all, he’s our boy. Dave and Lorry are motivated to the actions they have taken by fear, and Johnny, by love. I‘ll put my money on love every time. In fact, I‘ve bet my life on it.” Her mother smiled and winked and disappeared as the water shown only the flickering candle in its gentle mirror.

Blowing out the candle and emptying the bowl and drying it, Emma went to bed to sleep on it all.

El Brujo

It was Friday night and David sat nervously waiting in the cantina after work. The jukebox alternated between Hank Snow, Johnny Cash and some Mariachi tunes from South of the Border. He lit a cigarette and ordered another beer to calm his frayed nerves. The big man frightened him, but he was glad that “Big Mig” was on his side. Miguel Casteneda was not the kind of fellow he ever wanted to