MAX RACED AWAY FROM THE CEMETERY, the suspension on his car getting a full workout against the uneven pavement in the woods. When he broke free onto the main road, garnering angry honks from startled drivers, he pressed heavy against the gas pedal. Images of his arrival at the school whipped through his head — Sandra holding J, J pale and frightened, and social services standing over them with arms crossed and a disapproving scowl.
Drummond floated in the passenger seat, his hand gripping the door as if an accident would send him flying through the windshield. “You better slow down. You won’t do your wife and boys any good if you end up dead before you even get to the school.”
“The Mobley witches tried to kidnap my boy.”
“That’s right. And they did it to get to you. Don’t do them a favor and make their job any easier.”
Though his grip on the steering wheel did not ease, Max’s foot backed off the gas pedal — a little. His head pounded with blood and he heard only his heartbeat. With a perplexed frown, he said, “This doesn’t make any sense. It’s a bad move on their part.”
“Don’t you worry about that. Nobody takes a shot at my people and gets away with it.”
Max snatched a peek at his partner. Drummond’s grim expression gave Max a taste of how imposing the man must have been when he was alive. Max said, “I thought you were all about calming me down.”
“So you don’t get into an accident. That doesn’t mean the Mobleys are off the hook.”
Stopping at a traffic light, Max rubbed his jaw as he thought. “From the way things are going, I’m guessing that the cloaked witch is working for the Mobleys. Might even be a Mobley witch herself.”
“They certainly seem to be the most interested in Walker.”
“The way I see it, the cloaked witch was going to cast some kind of spell to find Walker. Her affair with Mrs. Berkley’s husband was a side thing — unrelated. It was her bad luck that Berkley hired us.”
Drummond gazed ahead as he digested the idea. “If she is a Mobley witch, then that would explain how Mother Hope found out about it all. With the escalating tensions between the two groups, I have to believe that Mother Hope has several Magi spying on the Mobleys.”
Max flexed his fingers, his tension easing a bit. “So, Mother Hope takes a preemptive hit on two of the Mobleys.”
“Seems like it. The part I don’t get is what any of this has to do with Walker.”
Max turned onto the side road that led to the school. “That’s because this is not about Walker.”
“Right, it’s Crutchfield.”
“I think so. Walker told us that William Crutchfield began messing around with witchcraft. If you’re living in the 1890s and you’re messing around with witchcraft and you’re living in the Winston area, then who are you most likely to come into contact with?”
Drummond nodded. “Grandma Mobley. No doubt about it.”
“Her rivalry with Mother Hope has been going on a long time.” Max pulled into the large parking lot and tucked into a space near the middle. “Do me a favor. When I can, I’m going to have to research about Crutchfield and figure out if he’s actually Straw Hat. But it’ll be a heck of a lot easier if you can find the guy floating around the Other.”
“Consider it done. You sure you don’t want me going to the Mobleys with you guys?”
“I’m calm enough now. And, frankly, I think the Mobleys have far more to fear from Sandra than they do from you or me.”
Drummond chuckled. “Ain’t that a fact.”
As Max exited the car, Drummond vanished. Walking toward the school’s entrance, Max moved with a confident stride. The anger that had propelled him while driving dissipated with each step. Drummond had been right. He needed to be calm and thinking straight. But when he opened the door and stepped into the school lobby, when he saw his wife and his son sitting on a wood bench by a cinderblock wall, a tsunami of emotions knocked through him.
He always had love and concern for his wife, and while the Sandwich Boys were new additions to their lives, he cared for them deeply. But the tableau they formed — the mother consumed with worry and anger, the son trying to hide his fear — struck Max different than before. The word family had been thrown about often, and he knew they meant it every time they said it, yet here, sitting anxiously, waiting impatiently, he glimpsed a shard of that special jewel. Mother and son clinging to each other for security and for support. Separate people forming a single unit. Family.
Sandra jumped to her feet and headed off Max before he could say a word. “Everything is okay here — now. Apparently, a woman came in and attempted to give a story as to why she was there to pick up J. She gave her name as Christine Mobley. The school, of course, had no record of her being authorized and refused to help her. She left. No trouble made.”
“It was a threat.”
“I think so, too. They’re telling us they know where J goes to school. If they really wanted to take him, they would never have left a Mobley name. Unless it’s the Magi and they want to set up the Mobleys.”
“After hanging two of their witches, I don’t see why the Magi would bother with subtle threats to us. Plus, Mother Hope has me cursed. She’s got the ultimate threat hanging over me.”
With a grim nod, Sandra said, “I had the same thoughts. Kind of hoped you’d come up with a different conclusion, though. But it sounds like we agree — the Mobleys are behind this.”
“They’re threatening our family.” Max gazed over at J. The boy caught his eye and gave a thumbs-up. “I have a bunch to tell you — we met Wilburn Walker — but it can wait. We need to deal with that coven right now.”
“I was thinking the same thing. But I’ve got this,” Sandra said, her eyes focused in a dark manner that chilled Max’s skin. “You take J back to your mom’s place.”
She turned to leave, but Max said, “No.”
Swiveling back on him, she said, “You don’t get to handle everything. I am the one who has studied witches. I know them better than you. Let me take care of this.”
“Not alone. We do this together.”
“That sounds great, but you’re forgetting something — J.”
Max waved the boy to join them. “We’re bringing him with us. He needs to see who these people are. Even if he doesn’t believe in them, he has to be prepared — just in case.”
Sandra observed Max’s face for a moment before accepting the idea. As they turned to leave, Max heard a throat being cleared echo off the cinderblock walls.
Before he turned back, before he saw the principal standing in the office doorway, he had a sudden energy surge through his nerves. It took him a half-second to recognize it — the sensation of being caught doing something wrong at school.
Principal Hardy strutted across the hall, her heels making sharp clicks on the tile. “Mr. Porter, it seems we keep meeting under less than pleasant circumstances.”
“Not a problem today. Nobody got harmed, and from what I understand, you all did a great job protecting our son. We appreciate it.”
He started to leave, but she said, “I would like to discuss the incident with you. To make sure we are all on the same page.”
Max smirked. “I promise you we are not interested in a lawsuit against the school. Nothing bad happened. No harm, no foul.”
“Not that I was purposefully listening in, but I did hear some of your discussion with your wife. I don’t want to let you go causing problems with other people because of what happened here.”
“Is there some kind of waiver that you want me to sign? Is that what this is about?”
Principal Hardy tugged her blouse tight as if setting armor to cover the proper vital points. “I assure you, Mr. Porter, my interests are only in the safety and welfare of J. The school is not afraid of liability nor do we need you to sign a waiver because we have done nothing wrong. Everything is documented and clearly we did the right thing. Part of our procedure is to sit down with the parents and inform you in detail about the incident, let you read the reports, and have you sign off on them, so that we are all in agreement.”
Max pulled out a Porter Agency business card from his wallet and handed it over. “Call my office and make an appointment. We’ll come in and handle all of your paperwork. But right now, my family needs to be together. And that’s what we’re going to do.”
Max, Sandra, and J walked out.
J stayed quiet the entire drive to the Mobley house. Max figured the boy could sense the tension radiating from Sandra. He was a survivor. He knew the best way to get through the next few hours — eyes open, ears clear, mouth closed.
Max had never learned such a lesson growing up. Would have saved him a lot of trouble. As they pulled into the development where the Mobleys lived, he said, “Honey, I know you’re upset, but —”
“You should be upset, too.”
“I am. All I wanted to say —”
“If you have anything to say, it should be to Lena Mobley. But don’t bother. I got it covered.”
Before Max parked the car in the driveway, Sandra had the passenger-side door open. She stormed across the yard and up onto the porch. Banging on the door and punching the doorbell, she stood firm as an iron pike.
Max turned back to J. “The women in this house can be dangerous. They won’t look it. In fact, they look pretty old and dowdy, but trust me. You do not want to mess with these people.”
J’s brow pulled down. “You mean like Sandra is about to do?”
“As tough as these women are, they got nothing when compared to Sandra — especially when she’s ticked off.”
J shivered out a grin. “I can believe that.”
“Stay close to me. Don’t go wandering off, and don’t say a word to any of the women. I mean it. They can do a lot to hurt you with any little bit of information you may give. Even things you don’t think matter — they matter. Understand?”
J nodded with such trepidation that Max actually believed he had gotten through to the boy. They hurried to catch up with Sandra. As they approached the porch, the front door opened — no telling how many times Sandra had pushed the doorbell — and Jessica Mobley stood in the entranceway.
Among the youngest of the Mobley coven, Jessica had a waifish appearance. But Max had seen her in action before — fast, vicious, loyal, and perhaps one of the least forgiving witches he had ever come across.
Sandra pushed her arm against Jessica’s chest and shoved the girl out of the way. As Max and J jogged to catch up, Sandra burst into the living room — no longer housing two corpses, it had returned to its normal purpose of entertaining.
“What you did was indecent and stupid,” Sandra said to Lena Mobley.
Lena sat in her high-backed chair with a book in her lap. She made no attempt to appear cordial. In fact, as Max reached the open archway into the living room, he saw a deep scowl appear on the woman’s face that could quell a rabid dog. “You want to think carefully about who you call stupid — especially as you are the one barging into a witch coven.”
“Coming after my boy is the wrong move.”
“I don’t know what you think we’ve done, and I don’t care. Only because you and your husband have helped us out in the past will I afford you this courtesy — turn around and leave right now. I will forget this intrusion.”
Clenching her fists, seething with fiery rage, Sandra strode right up to Lena and pressed her foot on the arm of the chair. With a sharp shove that screeched the chair legs against the floor, she said, “You don’t get to go after my boy and then act like you’re doing me a favor. You do not want me as an enemy.”
Lena popped to her feet. Max reached into his pocket, his hand settling on the grip of his handgun. He looked to his side, checking that J had not wandered off, and then stepped back slightly to make sure that Jessica Mobley did not have access to J. For her part, Jessica casually closed the front door and sauntered into the living room, taking a gentle seat on the far end of the couch. She crossed her legs and watched as if taking in an afternoon drama on television.
Despite the calmness in her voice, every facet of Lena’s physical being screamed her desire to throttle Sandra to death. “I can see that you are quite upset. Clearly you think that we had something to do with trouble that came to your son. We did not. We have far more pressing matters to worry about than what goes on in the Porter lives. We’ve been attacked by our enemy. What makes you think I care one iota about the sewer rats you’ve adopted?”
But Sandra had gone too far into an ardent defense of her family. Max could tell she heard nothing. Sandra stabbed the air in front of Lena. “If you ever come to my son’s school again, if you ever send anybody even remotely near my boys, I will not only kill you, but I will kill every single member of this coven. Even if I have to sell my soul to do it.”
The kitchen door on the back wall opened, and the most frightening sight Max could have seen stepped forth — a frail, ninety pound woman, stark white hair, skin wrinkled and hanging from over a hundred years of life. Grandma Mobley.
She wore thick, heavy shoes that made each slow step hit with a resounding clump. It reverberated around the room as if amplified by hidden microphones. Sandra and Lena’s argument ceased. Jessica jolted to her feet, smoothing down her clothes and tossing her hair back to make the best impression.
When Grandma Mobley turned toward Max, his mouth dried and he heard J gasp — the boy had seen how one of her eyes clouded over milky-white. Max felt J’s hand clutch the back of his coat.
After only a half-dozen steps, Grandma Mobley halted. She surveyed the room with her one good eye before turning her focus onto Sandra.
Drawing on her deep well of gumption, Sandra took a step forward. “I’ve never seen you looking so ...”
“Alive?” Grandma Mobley tittered. “My sisters in the coven have worked their best to help me along. The kind of magic that keeps you young — I never liked to mess with it too much. It can become addictive. Just ask Mother Hope. And it’s a case of diminishing returns. Very destructive to the body in the long run.”
With a worried glance at Jessica, Lena said, “We apologize for the disruption.”
“No need. Sometimes it’s healthy to have a little arguing. It helps put things in perspective. And from what I’m hearing, the Porters need a strong dose of perspective.”
Sandra glowered at Lena even as she spoke to Grandma Mobley. “You tell your sisters that coming after my boys is off the table. They do that again —”
“And I’ll thank them.” Grandma Mobley waited until Sandra’s attention returned. “I don’t care what you think is going on, but the Magi have instigated a terrible battle of wills between us. Terrible for them, of course, because I have the greatest willpower of any witch in this state. Probably this country. I have lived too long and seen too many things to simply bow to Mother Hope.”
Rolling her shoulders back and straightening her spine, Grandma Mobley walked over toward Max and J. She moved faster, more assuredly, and with each step it became clearer that any signs of age were mere artifice.
J shrunk behind Max. Grandma Mobley chuckled.
“Come out here, boy.”
Max inched closer to Grandma Mobley. “You don’t want to do this.”
“I will do whatever I see fit. We are about to fight a very powerful enemy and when it comes to you and your family, we don’t care. Unless you’ve decided to join us. Allies are always given our great appreciation.”
Through a tight jaw, Sandra said, “You want to fight the Magi, then you go right ahead. But there is no reason to involve us.”
“Naïve. You really think you can spend the last bunch of years playing in our pond, working with the Hulls, working with the Magi, working with us — you really think you can do that and suffer no consequences?” She sniffed in the direction of J. “This boy is full of youthful energy. A lot of spells call for such a thing.”
In the most vicious tones Max had ever heard, Sandra said, “Touch him and I’ll tear out your one good eye.”
Grandma Mobley grinned — a wet, hideous twisting of her lips. “I believe you would. Of course, sometimes that’s necessary for a powerful spell. And that’s what I want you to remember. You, your family, your kids, your life is in this battle. Mother Hope wants to try to take me down. She’s been wanting to do it for decades. And she always fails. Do you know why? Because I have the greater will. I have the strength to go to the darkest reaches, further than any other. You think you’re strong enough to stand up to me to protect your boy? You’re nothing. You have no idea what I’m capable of doing to protect my coven.”
Max noticed that Grandma Mobley had kept one hand at her side most of the time. With a jerk, that hand clenched tight. Max understood as those fingers closed that while she had been making her speech, part of her had also been casting a spell. He had never seen such a thing before. To be able to concentrate enough to cast a spell while also holding a conversation — a heated one, at that — turned his stomach.
As the next thought hit Max — what spell was she casting? — Jessica flew backwards into the wall. She wriggled like a trapped bug. Held several inches off the floor as if by a huge brute, she groaned. Mascara ran down her face with her tears.
Lena glared at the young woman, her anger eager to have a safe place to unload. “What did you do?”
Jessica tried to speak but only strained gurgles came out.
With a flick of her wrist, Grandma Mobley opened her hand, and Jessica dropped to the floor. “Do we understand each other?”
Gasping, Jessica said, “Yes, yes. I’m so sorry.”
“Go get yourself cleaned up.”
Max said, “What was that for?”
Grandma Mobley put one hand on her hip. “Stop concerning yourself with my affairs. Collect your wife and your boy and go home. If you really want us to leave you alone, then leave this situation alone. Because the next time I see you, you’ll either be prostrating before me or begging for mercy — and we both know that mercy will never come.” Turning away, she snapped her fingers at Lena. “After our guests leave, please make some of your tea. We have a lot to discuss.”