Hunting Witches Read online

  Penny dropped two sets of keys in front of Mark and Nika. The keys clattered on the table.

  “Front door, back door, deadbolts.” Penny said. “Congratulations. You’re homeowners.”

  Mark and Nika laughed and high-fived. The room became a circus of handshakes and smiles, chuckles and sighs of relief. Bankers and secretaries patted the shoulders of the newest believers in the American dream, while Penny withdrew, leaning against the wall by the coffeemaker table, a couple of napkins in her right hand to sop up the blood in her palm, made by the sharp crescent moons of her fingernails.

  Papers were gathered and placed into files in order of importance and the Pendleton’s dream became a matter of public record, shoved away into locked drawers, demoted from hopes and wonder to reams of fine print, boxed away and forgotten, tinder for another eventual courthouse fire.

  “Is there a liquor store around here?” Mark asked. They were walking out to the parking lot, and he was trying to put his house keys on his car key ring. “I think we need some rum.”

  “I think we need some champagne, baby,” Nika said. “A little bubbly to celebrate with.”

  “Are there any liquor stores around here?” Mark asked, panic beginning to creep into his face. “This isn’t a dry county, is it? Please tell me we didn’t move to a dry county, Nika.”

  “Relax, Paleface,” Nika said. “I have this amazing thing called a smart phone. I can find out.”

  Penny came up behind Mark, grinning and wild-eyed. He jumped when she tapped him on the shoulder.

  “I just wanted to say congratulations, again,” Penny stammered, “and to let you know that if you need anything, it’s my job to help you out.”

  “Cool,” Mark said. “Is there a liquor store around here?”

  “Well, they sell it up at The Store,” she said.

  “Which store?”

  “We’ve only got the one, really, and that’s what it’s called. It’s The Store.”

  Mark laughed. “That’s seriously what they named it? The Store?”

  “Makes sense to me,” Nika chimed in. “I mean, it doesn’t matter what it’s called, right? You’re always just going to The Store. Sounds like clever marketing to me.”

  Mark sighed. “Well, thin line between clever and stupid, I suppose.”

  Penny cleared her throat. “I wanted to take this chance to ask the two of you if you would like to come to church with me this Sunday. It’s a lovely little place with some wonderful people and we would love to have you visit.” The corners of her mouth turned down, just slightly, giving her face a pained look.

  Mark laughed, a short bark, and then covered his mouth with his hand. “Sorry,” he murmured.

  Nika, ever the diplomat, interjected herself into the conversation again. “That’s very sweet of you, Penny, but Mark and I aren’t really church-going people.”

  Penny began to clench her fists again. “Why not?” she asked.

  Mark and Nika glanced at each other, both wondering if this was about to become confrontational.

  “Well,” Mark said, “because we don’t believe?” He phrased it as a question, hoping it would soften the blow.

  Penny Renfro glitched out. For a moment, the rage that Penny tried so hard to keep hidden became visible. Her eyes widened, and her lips curled back, like a dog about to attack. She seemed to be about to growl when the mask slipped back down. It was like her human face disappeared for the briefest of seconds, then returned. Her smile came back, too wide and nervous, as usual.

  “Well, that’s fine,” she said. “I understand. Everything so modern nowadays. No one takes the time to appreciate the old ways.”

  “We like the old ways just fine,” Nika said. “Just not those particular old ways. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Mark and I have some celebrating to do in our new home.”

  “We also have to unpack this truck,” Mark said, “and my lovely wife won’t let me drive it. So, thank you for everything, Penny, and if we have need of you, we’ll be in touch.” Mark hurriedly opened the door of his car and got in. He started the engine and turned up the radio so Penny couldn’t talk to him anymore.

  Nika pulled herself up into the rental truck and cranked the big diesel to life. As she pulled out of the bank parking lot and back onto the road to Elders Keep, she could see Penny Renfro in her rear view mirror, standing stock still, not waving, not getting ready to leave, but simply staring at the back of the truck, teeth bared like fangs in that ridiculous smile.

  ***

  The next two weeks were busy, but in a good way, where you’re tired and sweaty and smell like canned ass, but still having fun with your best friend. Mark would leave in the morning for his job in Bell Plains, leaving Nika all day to put the house together. There was much online shopping and sending pictures of home décor to Mark’s email for his approval. The living room smelled of plastic drop cloth and freshly painted accent wall. Nika had always heard the term “homemaker,” but had never applied it to herself. “Apartment-maker” wasn’t a thing. She began to understand what it was like to create a home, a safe place, a life for her and her husband.

  When Mark came home from work, he became the furniture mule. Move the couch from this wall to the other wall. Move the bed from the north corner of the room to the southern corner. Place the television somewhere it won’t catch the glare.

  Those nights, whether they were mucking about upstairs or setting things up in the basement, all ended in a giddy exhaustion.

  “It’s all coming together,” Nika said.

  “I hope so,” Mark said. “I know my back hopes so.”

  “Poor baby. You want I should rub it?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Mark said. “My back, too.”

  “Naughty.”

  Mark laughed softly and moved closer to his wife, naked under the covers.

  “The living room is just about perfect, the basement will be finished soon, it’s really starting to feel like a real home.”

  “Are you trying to tell me you’re happy, Nika?” Mark asked.

  “I’m very happy, Paleface,” she said. But before she could finish her sentence, she heard Mark’s muffled snoring. She gently messed his hair, then settled in to drift off.

  ***

  “Come on, come on! You’re gonna make me late for work!”

  “I’m hurrying! I gotta pee and then we can leave.”

  “Fine,” Mark said. “But you better squeeze it out. I wanna hear water cannon noises in there.”

  Nika laughed. “You’re a madman! I only keep the car once a week and you always act like such a wiener about it.”

  “I’ve only been working at Dynagraph two weeks, Nika,” Mark said. “I haven’t earned the right to be late yet. I’m still trying to impress Bo.”

  Nika wiped herself and pulled up her panties and sweat pants at the same time. “You’re trying to impress a guy who wears flip-flops to meetings and brings in biscuits and Bloody Marys for the office breakfast?”

  “Fuck, yeah,” Mark said, “because that is awesome. And I don’t want to let down a man who does awesome shit like that.”

  “Okay, okay,” Nika said. “I get it. Let’s go. Grab a jacket.”

  “It’s not even cold!”

  “It’s Fall, Mark, and there is a chill in the air.”

  “Fine, Mother,” he said. “I have a jacket. Let’s go.”

  They rushed outside. It was chilly and Mark put his jacket on without saying a word. Nika locked the front door, then briskly walked to the car, unlocking the doors with the wireless fob. As Nika started the engine, Mark got in on the passenger side. He had to slide the seat back three notches before he could fold himself in.

  “Don’t know why you like to sit with your knees up under your chin,” Mark said.

  “It’s so I can make myself small,” she said. “That’s how I plan to survive the impact when your lousy driving gets us wrapped around a tree.”

  “Okay, stop,” Mark said. “This is the time where you
and I both realize that we are not morning people, and that all this snipping at each other is not a real conversation. It’s both of us raging against the horrible thing that is morning, and not yelling at each other.”

  “Agreed,” Nika said.

  “I’m starting over.” Mark cleared his throat. “Good morning, Nika. Thank you for making coffee, and for being considerate enough to pour some in these travel mugs for us to enjoy as we drive to Bell Plains.”

  “You’re welcome,” Nika said, changing lanes. “Can’t just let me be mad and bossy, can you?”

  “Nope. Not having it.”

  Nika shook her head. “You’re an asshole. But you’re my asshole.”

  “That’s just weird,” Mark said.

  “Do you need anything special from The Store?” Nika asked.

  “Razors,” Mark said. “Deodorant. Oh, and see if they’ve got one of those things that snips nose hair. I’ve got some whoppers coming in.”

  “You’re getting old, Paleface,” Mark said.

  “Says the woman with two rockin’ long black hairs growing out of her left nipple,” Mark laughed.

  “I didn’t think you noticed that,” Nika said.

  “Really? I go to kiss you there and it’s like getting floss stuck in my teeth.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll just do something about that,” Nika said.

  “Huh. If you’re going to get rid of that hair, maybe you could do something about…”

  “…don’t push it, Son,” Nika interrupted. “If you ever want to see that garden again, don’t complain about how I trim the hedges.”

  Mark raised his hands. He knew the tone of voice; this conversation was over. There was silence for a while until Mark reached over and turned up the radio. He reached over and gently grabbed Nika’s leg. She took one hand off the steering wheel and patted his hand.

  “You’re here,” she said, as she pulled into the parking lot of Mark’s job. “Have a good day, okay? Call me if you need me.”

  “Are we moving anything tonight?”

  “Not as far as I know,” she said. “But you can never tell. I might get a wild hair on my nipple and decide to move the bathtub outside.”

  Mark laughed. “Dream big, baby,” he said as he got out of the car.

  ***

  She could have stayed in Bell Plains and done her shopping there. Nika considered herself to be a progressive, socially conscious woman. She drank Fair Trade coffee, had protested the sale of conflict diamonds and never forgot her reusable canvas shopping bags. Bell Plains was filled with chain stores and mega-marts.

  Nika felt better about being a consumer by making sure her money went into local coffers. She never left Tucker to shop when she lived there; she swore to do the same for The Keep. In the limited time Nika had been able to take for exploration purposes, she had found a few small places she liked. The local restaurant, The Meal Worm, had a horrible name, but they served a homemade carrot cake with cheesecake icing that tasted like love. The coffee was good and strong, too, with an instant caffeine kick that was welcome after a long morning of poking around little shops.

  The place most folks in The Keep did their shopping was called The Store. It was part of a chain, but a small one in comparison to the stores and outlet mall monstrosities in Bell Plains. Artisan market, it was not. She tried to justify it. Nika hated having to choose the lesser of two evils. The chain was still family-owned, but so was Wal-Mart. However, after some internet research, she found out The Store paid their employees twice the national average for retail workers. Maybe I can get a part-time job there, Nika thought.

  This was only her third time in The Store, and she was still learning the layout. It was difficult finding the little things, like razors, and this lack of familiarity resonated with the way she was still reliant on her GPS unit to get her around The Keep. Even though she was technically a resident, she still felt like a stranger, and she would never be considered a local.

  Something about The Store, though, was wonderful. As soon as Nika pulled into the lot, she felt this crazy energy coursing through her body, like it was being pulled up through the tires into the soles of her feet. It made her want to dance. It made her want to fuck. It made her want to play rugby, and she wasn’t one hundred percent sure what rugby was. She knew it was violent, though, and she wanted in.

  That feeling faded, though, as Nika was able to push it towards the back of her mind. She couldn’t go into public like that. She briefly wondered if any fights had ever broken out here; it certainly seemed like the right place for it. She got out of the car, locked it and entered The Store.

  Her cart was wobbly. It always was. That was standard Nika luck. She couldn’t get a smooth-running cart to save her life. She began ka-chunking her way through the grocery side of The Store.

  It was an interesting comparison between shopping in Atlanta and shopping in Elders Keep. Atlanta was focused on showing how multi-cultural it could be. It was no problem to find exotic foods like durian or testicles. Judging by the food selection in Elders Keep, this was a town obsessed with its Southern heritage. Nika had never seen a store that had seventeen different brands of grits. There was a special cooler in the meat department for fatback and hog jowls. It was a carbohydrate paradise, and the masque of the White Lily held sway over all.

  Still, the produce was fresh, as local as it could be, given the season, and the meat was always tasty. Nika picked through the packaged chicken, thinking of a tetrazzini recipe she had been anxious to try. She made her way through the yellow foam trays until she found the bird parts she thought would taste the best.

  “Kind of an arbitrary decision, isn’t it?”

  Nika looked to her left to see a smaller woman, rail thin, also looking at the chicken.

  “Excuse me?” Nika said.

  “All this meat,” the woman said. “And what do we know about it? Where does it come from? What if it’s all synthetic? How would we know? If it’s pink, we’ll eat it. Not just chicken on that, either.”

  “I suppose we all do the best we can,” Nika said, trying to be polite.

  “That’s not true,” the woman said. “Not all of us. Not all the time.”

  “Maybe not,” Nika said, and she turned her cart and began walking off.

  “You’re new here, aren’t you?” the woman called, and Nika could hear the stranger’s soles shuffling towards her, chasing her. “I can tell. I know everyone in town. Are you visiting?”

  Nika sighed as the woman caught up to her. “No, you’re right,” Nika said. “We’re newbies. My husband and I just moved here.”

  The woman extended her hand and smiled, the corners of her pale blue eyes crinkling. “My name’s Sarah,” she said. “Welcome to Elders Keep. I used to work here! That’s how come I know everyone. Everyone has to come to The Store, right?”

  “I’m Nika.” They shook hands, and that was how Nika made her first friend in The Keep.

  “Are you grocery hunting too, Sarah?” Nika asked. “I didn’t see you pushing a cart.”

  “No, I’m just here,” Sarah shrugged. “Everybody goes to The Store.”

  “How come you don’t go to Bell Plains? There are actual malls there to hang out in.”

  Sarah looked genuinely surprised at the prospect. “And leave town? Why?”

  Nika had no response. She was becoming pretty fond of Elders Keep herself.

  “Does your husband work in Bell Plains? Most husbands do, I find,” Sarah said.

  “Yeah, he does,” Nika said. They were wandering through the frozen foods. Nika was half-heartedly looking for peas, distracted by the conversation. She hadn’t spoken with anyone but Mark and that odd real estate agent since the move. “Are you married?”

  “My husband’s a dentist,” Sarah said. “He has an office downtown. Your teeth are pretty, though. Bright. You probably don’t need to see him.”

  “Well, if I need a dentist, I’ll be sure to book an appointment with him.” Nika reached into the f
reezer and brought out a bag of mixed vegetables. Some soup might be good for a chilly night.

  “You don’t know anybody in town, do you? Ain’t made a friend yet.”

  Nika stared. This was a kind of straightforwardness she wasn’t used to. Yet, there was no malice in her voice, no edge of mocking or intimidation on her face. It was an honest question. Nika figured it deserved an honest answer.

  “No, Sarah, I haven’t. I’ve been putting together my house and haven’t had a whole lot of time to get out.”

  Sarah touched Nika’s cart. “Check out. Check out and let’s go get some coffee. You want to? I want to. Come on! I’ll pay. It will be fun!”

  Don’t talk to strangers. Strangers are friends you haven’t met yet.

  Oh, the mixed messages of adolescence, and how they carry over into adulthood. Nika weighed her options carefully. Sarah was aggressive when it came to continuing a conversation, but Nika did not think she was going to pull a chloroform-soaked rag out of her purse and drag her away to a van with blacked-out windows. Sarah may have been excitable and a little flighty, but Nika didn’t sense any danger from the woman.

  “You know what?” Nika said. “That sounds good. Make you a deal. Let me go home and get everything put away, and I’ll meet you at The Meal Worm in, like, an hour?”

  Sarah bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. “It’s a deal!” she squealed. “See you there!” Then she was gone, scurrying towards the doors like a kindergartner towards the playground at recess.

  Nika hadn’t expected to enjoy hanging out with Sarah, but they became fast friends. After the first time they went out for coffee, they did it twice more that week. Nika found Sarah to be engaging and bright, and they shared interests in gardening and classic rock. They became Facebook friends, and began to message each other at night during their favorite television shows.

  “We should bring the husbands into this,” Sarah said one afternoon after a pot of coffee and some chocolate peanut butter pie at The Meal Worm. “Let’s have a double date.”