Free Halfway Dead by Terry Maggert

that I might examine this lost soul, he waved one hand at me in a pleading manner as his lips mouthed, please, come find me.

Chapter Six: At Any Distance

     
     
    I love the moon. That’s why I love the fact that a full moon isn’t just one night, it’s more like two. Sure, there is some minor waning by the second dawn, but it was nearly four in the morning and there she was in all her glory. I sat on the kitchen floor, watching the panel of moonlight elongate to a rhombus across my legs. Walking home from the library, I’d felt that tickle at the back of my neck that told me I needed my magic. I wanted the surety of it; to feel the power in my fingers and let my mind be swept inward with that beautifully painful concentration that spells bring.
    There was something wrong in the woods. Not the distant, forlorn place that had once been Thendara, but someplace closer. I could feel a gap in the presence of the world around me, as if something was intentionally shielding itself from my awareness. In my experience, not everything that is hidden wants to be found. I reached out and let my power wander like a child on an endless lawn, and eventually, I felt something push back. At the first sense of this presence, I withdrew. I sat for a long moment to let my breathing return to something like a normal state, and my palms were moist. It was fear, plain and simple. My body reacted to that which my mind would not admit. I was afraid.
    I am a witch. I am called, not commanded, but I respect my magic as much as I love the woman who gave it to me, and I decided right then to respond to fear with strength. I placed a small stone in the moonlight, watching the beam set fire to the quartz chips that ran through it. In seconds, I could feel my will gathering to a point, traveling through my body, and dancing along the skin of my arms like St. Elmo’s fire. It was exquisite. I rolled my eyes as the tension began to leave me and was replaced by something else. The pebble began to crack, silently, and then fell into a fine powder as the bonds of the earth gave in to my spell. Now why does it matter that I can master the stones? My thoughts refocused on the small pile of fine grit, glistening cheerfully in the moonlight. I had bested the most powerful bonds of the physical world, even if on a tiny scale. I was filled with a sense of achievement; an occurrence that was completely alien to me, which was strange and a bit off-putting. Magic satisfies me, but it doesn’t make me smug. Why did I feel such a wash of relief at turning a small rock into dust?
    My eyes were pulled beyond the moonlight to the hulking darkness of the mountain and the vast sea of trees. I felt good because I had caused something from the wilds to bend to my touch. I wondered at such feelings, and closed my eyes while dipping one fingertip into the small, tidy pile of dust. I felt good because of where the bad was located. It was out there , among the mountains. I had proven that my magic could manipulate the elements and, somewhere deep within me, I knew that was important.
    Whatever was happening, it would be far from the floor of my kitchen. I took along look around the comfortable gloom and shuddered, knowing that soon, I would be vulnerable.
    And whatever wanted to hurt people was much deadlier than a simple rock.

Chapter Seven: Carbs and the Constable

     
     
    I saw Anna stroll into the diner, and I smiled. I say she strolled because sashay sounds a bit lewd, even though men tend to lean out of their chairs to watch her pass. She’s a small woman, like me, but with short hair and a slippery grace that I’ll never have. She moved to town enormously pregnant two years ago, had a daughter, and then attacked her baby weight in a unique manner. Anna began, of all things, hula hooping in her garage while listening to electronic dance music.
    It was a transformation that the town hasn’t quite adjusted to, and might never. She immediately began collecting