Free 09 - Return Of The Witch by Dana E. Donovan

try another.”
    “ After you.”
    We walked around to the back of the house and onto a small deck outside a sliding patio door. Cupping our hands over our eyes, we pressed our noses to the glass and peered inside.
    “There,” I said, directing Ursula’s attention to a spot halfway between us and the front door. “You see that on the floor? What is that, brown sugar?”
    “Brown something,” she answered.
    “We’ve got to get in there and see what it is.”
    I tried pulling on the slider. It wouldn’t budge. Ursula tried a nearby window. Locked. There was only one other thing to do.
    “ We have to break in,” I told her.
    I thought she’d protest; maybe try to talk me out of it. Oddly, though, she didn’t. I can’t say why, except that I suspect her recent adventure in the Eighth Sphere had emboldened her to take chances she normally wouldn’t. Either that or her taste for rebellion against Dominic had developed into something of a thirst for defiance against authority in general. In short, my little witch was all grown up.
    After looking around, Ursula pointed to a gas barbecue grill and suggested we hurl it through the slider. I suggested she start with something smaller and perhaps set her sights on a window instead.
    “It’ll make less noise and less mess,” I explained.
    “Aye, `tis why thou art the ringleader and not I.”
    “What? I’m not a ringleader. Who calls me that? Dominic?”
    She shook her head.
    “Carlos? Did that overgrown Cuban cabana boy tell you that?”
    “Nay, `twas Master Tony what said that.”
    “Tony?” I felt my fists unclench. “He said that?”
    She turned a pencil-thin smile up at me. “Oh, but I am certain he meant it in a most agreeable way.”
    “Yeah, I suppose I do sometimes act like—”
    “Hey you! What are you doing there?”
    We turned and found a crotchety old man leaning over the fence separating Terri Cotta’s yard from his. I noticed he held a cell phone in one hand and a crucifix in the other. I thought of asking him, Who you gonna call , Jesus ?
    “ Did you hear me?” He soured his ugly face for greater emphasis, perhaps because we hadn’t hopped down off the porch and begged his forgiveness quickly enough. “I asked what you’re doing back there.”
    Ursula responded, “We came around the back for the front door was locked.”
    “Ursula , please.” I touched her arm softly. “Let me handle this.” I said to the old man, “We came here to see Terri Cotta.”
    “And I asked why have you come back? I know you’re the woman from the other night.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “I told the police about you. They know.”
    “They know what?”
    “ You did something to that girl. I heard the screams, the whistle. I saw you loitering around the house.” He shook his crucifix at me. “I bet you didn’t know someone was watching. Didja? But I know it was you. I told them everything.”
    I hopped off the porch and started toward him. “Well, how about you tell me, old man. What did you hear? What did you see?”
    He backed up in equal steps to my approach. “You stay away. I mean it. I’m not afraid of you, witch.”
    “ Witch?”
    “Yes, witch. Y ou’re all witches. I know that. I see the pagan rituals you all perform, those strange going-ons and whatnot all hours of the night. But you’ve gone too far this time. I told them about you. Yes sir, that’s what I’ve done.”
    “Wait, are you telling me you’ve seen me here at this house before?”
    I took a step closer and he took another step back. “You stay away , hear?” He held the crucifix up to ward me off. I humored him and cowered briefly under his threat, sinking to my knees and holding my hands up in futile defense.
    Encouraged by that, he held the crucifix higher and edged closer. “That’s right, witch. You see the power of Jesus.”
    He was back up at the fence when I stood again and dismissed his silliness with a wave. “Nah, I’m just messin` witcha,