Erika was dazzled by the flood of colored light from the stained glass skylight in the hall and almost fell over Shadow, who had bounded to his feet when the door to the fortuneteller’s parlor opened. He pranced ahead of them, wagging his tail and glancing back at her with shining eyes.
“Looks like he knows you from someplace else,” Rose commented. “That’s a lot of foolishness, even for him.”
“Maybe I’ve met him in the park,” Erika said vaguely.
“Maybe. His young master’s very keen on the park.”
“Is he?” Erika said, and stopped dead at the kitchen door. “The queen of witches,” she whispered, staring across the big room at the woman who stood, smiling slightly, with her back to the fire, a ray of afternoon sun gilding her hair.
“I know you too,” Miranda said, stepping forward. “You stood rooted at the edge of the crowd and stared and stared. It was truly gratifying. I also know who it was that took one look and darted away into the dark. We’ll have him for desertion, my dear—for quitting his post in the line of fire.”
Erika was speechless with a mixture of delight, dismay, and growing comprehension. So it was the sight of his mother that had caused Bren to bolt. It was laughable—or was it? He must have thought that she would step out of the parade and join her son and his new girlfriend for a chat. Would that have been so dreadful? Well, yes, perhaps from Bren’s point of view it would have been, for here, surely, was the secret he had been guarding so jealously. It wasn’t so much his grandmother’s peculiarities that worried Bren as his mother’s real and overwhelming witchiness. Here in this charming, domestic room, even more than at the parade, there was not the slightest doubt in Erika’s mind that Miranda was the real thing. And Rose, too, she thought with a shiver, remembering the visions that had possessed her only minutes before.
Bren’s mother was still smiling at her expectantly, as if waiting for an agreeable but slightly backward child to think of something polite to say. “I’m sorry,” Erika blurted. “It’s just such a surprise. You must think I’m dumb as a toad.”
“What a curious simile,” Miranda said. “I mean, it’s true that toads are not known for exhilarating discourse, but who would have thought of it?”
“What’s all this blather?” Rose filled the kettle and banged it down on the stove. “This girl needs tea, not talk. She’s been in the presence of Vassago.”
Miranda’s eyes widened. “You came to Madame Rose, and you got a full séance? Poor thing. No wonder you’re green around the gills.”
“No, it was fascinating,” Erika protested, but she sank gratefully into a chair at the oak table.
Another thought seemed to strike Bren’s mother. “How much did you pay?” she demanded.
“It was nothing,” Erika said. “Really. Ten dollars for that experience. I couldn’t believe it.”
“Mother,” Miranda said, stretching out her hand.
To Erika’s astonishment, the old woman’s face turned red. She fumbled in her apron pocket and brought forth, grudgingly, a crumpled bill and dropped it on the table.
“Take it,” Miranda said.
“But I don’t…”Erika began.
“Take it back,” Miranda repeated. “For true witchcraft there can be no charge. It is against the law—the law of the land most places, but also the higher law that we obey.”
“Well, how was I to know?” Rose muttered. “I thought she was special when I saw her, but then I thought, all she wants is tall-dark-and-handsome just like the rest of the girls. You say yourself that we can charge for that sort of rubbish.”
“If you would be less greedy and collect at the end of the session,” Miranda said, “you wouldn’t have this problem.”
Rose poured out the tea with a venomous glance at her daughter, but said no more. Erika guessed that it was an old argument and pocketed the ten. Now she had time to study the room in which they sat, and here it was easy to remember Bren. A pile of his school books was on the sideboard, and two sneakers, widely separated, on the floor. And here were the things he had described—the comfortable old couch, the cranky, antiquated refrigerator with its wooden doors set into one wall, and the enormous fireplace. She thought of the bleak efficiency of the Apthorp kitchen and envied Bren. Surely it couldn’t be so bad to live with two witches in a place like this. Or maybe three. She remembered the black voodoo woman who lived downstairs and wondered if she would be lucky enough to meet her too.
A sudden movement made her jump, and out of nowhere there was Luna, sitting in the middle of the table, winding her dark tail around her paws and fixing Erika with a blue, unblinking stare.
“Drat that cat,” Rose said, but neither woman moved to push her off.
“Meet Luna,” Miranda said casually. “Luna is my familiar—my magistrella, which means little master. Little mistress, I suppose it should be. Anyway, she’s rather a one-woman cat, I’m afraid.”
“She’s beautiful.” Erika stretched out her hand, and the cat, without changing her hieratic pose, leaned forward to sniff the proffered fingers. Slowly the girl who knew nothing about cats reached up and stroked a spot behind one silky ear, and Luna closed her eyes and rubbed her head against the caressing hand.
“Will you look at that,” Rose breathed.
“Well, she’s supposed to be a one-woman cat,” Miranda said lightly but with just a trace of jealousy in her voice.
“I’m beginning to think I want a cat,” Erika said. “If Luna ever has kittens, I’d love to have one of hers.”
“Ha. She wants the spawn of a witch’s cat,” Rose chuckled. “Maybe she wants to be a witch, Miranda. What do you think? We could do a grand job of teaching her.”
“I doubt she does,” Miranda said. “She’s Bren’s girlfriend, don’t forget.”
“Absolutely not,” Erika said, with more vehemence than she had intended. “But thank you very much just the same. As for being Bren’s girlfriend, I’m really not anymore. We had an awful row after he dumped me at the parade. He called me up, and I pretty much told him to get lost and stay lost. He was drunk, I think. At least he said he was.” Why am I saying all this? she wondered. I hardly know these people.
Miranda cast an amused glance at the brown bottle on the mantel. “Yes, drowning his sorrows in his father’s Scotch. I suspected as much when I saw what a lot was gone. It had to be either Bren or our mad opera singer in the attic. Witches don’t drink, as a rule. Neither does Bren in any interesting way, and that should tell you right there how upset he was.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Erika said dubiously, “but there are things you shouldn’t say, because they can never be unsaid.”
“Nonsense. People say and unsay things all the time—a lot worse things than you or Bren would even be able to think of.” Miranda reached for the kettle and added to Erika’s tea. “Still, something must be done to straighten things out. We’ll put our minds to it and come up with something good, never fear.”
“Ask Louise,” Rose suggested. “She knows love charms backward and forward, strange as that might seem.”
“But look,” Erika said hastily, before Miranda could make another contribution. “This is all unnecessary. Please don’t think I’m being ungrateful, but I see now what went wrong, and if it’s going to get fixed, I’m afraid I’m the one who has to fix it. You see I do understand why Bren didn’t want me to know about the two of you. It’s all awfully silly, but I understand. I’ll have to think about it and figure it out myself.”
“Bren is deplorably conventional,” his mother remarked.
“Maybe what I should do,” Erika went on, “is tell him I’ve been here and I love it, so what’s all the fuss about?”
“Boring and inadequate,” Miranda said.
“But it’s my love life,” Erika protested, laughing, and then realized that it wasn’t entirely anymore, because once you involved a witch in something, you were really asking for interference. She knew little about witches, but already she sensed that for them interference was a way of life.
“The attraction is a little weak,” Miranda continued. “He’s not quite willing to die for you. But that’s easy to fix.”
“I’m not sure I want him willing to die for me,” Erika said, “and it really shouldn’t be necessary.”
Miranda gave her a stern glance. “Of course not, but the desire should be there. Just let me think.” She got up with a swift, feline movement and walked over to the window that gave onto the back yard. For a moment she stared out, then, with a low exclamation, jerked up the sash, and the stillness of the room was filled with a terrified squawking noise and a hoarse voice cursing vigorously in a strange tongue.
“Louise!” Miranda shouted from the window. “Louise, stop that at once, or we’ll have the police here.”
The curses ceased abruptly, although the squawking continued at a somewhat lower level, as if terror were giving way to mere indignation.
“Black bastard don’t want to be caught,” came an aggrieved voice, “and I got a meeting to go to.”
“Use a little chicken feed,” suggested Miranda, “but first, do me a huge favor and come up here, Louise. I need advice.” Her voice, Erika noticed, had turned from command to cajolery. There was a grumbling sound, followed by the banging of what was presumably the back door to the basement apartment. Erika wriggled happily in her seat, knowing she was about to meet a third and even more exotic witch.
Miranda shut the window. “I’m glad Bob wasn’t here,” she observed. “After I told him we never noticed the chickens.”
“You actually keep chickens in your back yard?” Erika asked. This was a detail Bren had neglected to mention.
“Not I,” Miranda said with a sniff. “Louise keeps them for some distressing ceremony of her own. She’s a black witch, you know. I mean figuratively as well as literally. But we’re very fond of her.”
Heavy steps could be heard below, and then Louise herself appeared in the kitchen doorway, disheveled and angry but still undeniably regal. “Better be important, babe,” she said. “I got only one hour to catch that cock from hell and carry him up to Harlem.” She seemed to notice Erika for the first time. “Since when we talk business in front of strangers? You gone off your head, Miranda?”
“This is Erika,” Miranda said. “Erika is Bren’s girlfriend, and she needs a little help.”
“I don’t,” Erika said, but was ignored.
Louise appeared to forget the urgency of her chicken chase in the wonder of this information. She chuckled richly and advanced into the room. “Bren have a girlfriend now? Will wonders never cease.” joining the group at the kitchen table, she sat down with her chin in her hand and studied Erika with her small, bright eyes. “Skinny,” she concluded after a moment, “but bright. Not real seductive, maybe, but there’s ways to fix that.” Louise laughed again. “There’s ways to make him fancy a blind pig, come to that. Pretty girl like you should be no problem.”
“But I don’t really want to be helped,” Erika said. “I know that sounds rude; I just feel that some things you have to do for yourself, and making up with your boyfriend is one of them.” She was beginning to feel quite outnumbered by the three witches scheming in her behalf but without her consent.
“Just a little philter,” Miranda said.
Erika shook her head. “Not even a little one.”
The witches exchanged glances, and Erika had the distinct feeling that they were agreeing to carry on without her cooperation. Miranda made a graceful little gesture of defeat. “Then we’ll just have to wish you the best of luck,” she said. “Don’t forget that we’re always here, ready and willing to help if conventional methods bog down, as they so often do.”
“Oh, I won’t,” Erika promised. “And I’m really grateful. Please believe me. It’s been fabulous meeting the three of you, and Vassago, of course,” she added with a special smile for Rose.
“Angels defend us,” the old woman muttered. “She sounds as if she’d met one of the dark lords at a tea party.”
“Look that way to me, too,” Louise said, with a glance around the cozy table littered with cups and saucers.
Miranda laughed. “Rose gave her the full treatment,” she explained, “and then brought her in for a little refreshment.”
Erika peeked at her watch and saw to her consternation that it was four o’clock. Bren might be here in less than ten minutes. She pushed back her chair.
“Oh, stay just a little longer, Erika,” Miranda begged. “I wanted so much to ask you about the play.”
In spite of her panic, Erika was stopped in her tracks. “The play?” she asked. “You mean Macbeth? What about it?”
“I saw some of the technical rehearsal,” Miranda said, “and it struck me very forcibly that there was a set of problems worthy of my powers. I met your director, too. Such a nice young man. It would be a real pleasure to give him a hand. I know I could do wonders with the lighting and special effects if I just had a little more information.”
Erika was appalled and felt sure that Bren would be even more so. It also struck her as unlikely that Mr. Behrens would welcome the assistance of the supernatural. She forced herself to remain calm. “I’m afraid this is another problem that’s better left to the people involved,” she said, “especially since it’s really the last minute. Maybe if you had been in on it from the beginning, but even then, I really don’t think…” She became aware that she had lost her audience. Louise was leaning across the table, staring at Miranda with gleaming eyes.
“Now that be a truly fine idea,” she declared. “Miranda, babe, you finally come up with something worth doing. Meeting and cockerel be damned. I can stand to spend some time on this.”
Miranda’s eyes sparkled at the compliment, and Erika saw that the other two really held the black woman in awe. “Do you really like it, Lou? Will you help?” Miranda cried. “It’s not any easy thing, and I’m still racking my brains about it.”
“Kinetic power you gonna need, Miranda,” Louise said. “Piles and piles of kinetic power. You think you can pull it off?”
“Never by myself,” Miranda said. “Not for a minute. I’m good, but I’m not that good. Is there a balcony in your theater?” She turned suddenly to Erika, who was startled into answering.
“Yes, but we almost never use it.”
“You’ll get us three seats in the front of the balcony,” Miranda said.
“But I can’t,” Erika protested. “They won’t let you go up, not if it’s really closed, and anyway, I don’t think…”
“You don’t need to think, my dear,” said Rose, “nor to worry about any little rules and regulations. You just dance and say your lines, and if Miranda wants seats in the balcony for herself and a whole platoon of Marines, she’ll get them, I promise you. It’s one of the things she’s good at.”
“All right!” Erika cried. She was now frantic to be gone. “All right. I don’t see how I can stop you, and I absolutely have to run. I just realized that I’m horribly late. Thank you all so much for everything!” She backed to the door, carrying with her the image of the three women who seemed so determined to take her life in charge, gathered around the table with the beautiful, mysterious cat seated like a royal effigy in their midst. The black dog lay with his nose pressed against the crack in the front door. Waiting for his master, she thought, then jerked open the door and collided with Bren, who was standing on the stoop looking through the mail.
Bren staggered back, dropping the mail and his school books into the clump of rhododendron bushes. “Erika!” he shouted. “What are you doing here?”
“Nothing to do with you,” Erika said quickly, clutching the railing to regain her balance. “I came to see your grandmother. She advertises, you know—little cards in coffee shops.”
“In a pig’s eye. You were snooping.”
“Why would I want to do that?” Erika asked. “I came to have my fortune told. I’m really into the supernatural, you know. Or didn’t you? I forget.”
“You are not,” Bren growled. “You’re into snooping, and you’re into driving me crazy. As if I didn’t have enough problems.”
“You dropped everything in the bushes,” Erika observed. She was not really trying to be infuriating. She was trying to think what she could do or say to improve this hideous encounter. The remark, however, had not been well chosen.
“You have a gift for this kind of thing,” Bren said. “You were born to be maddening. What do I care if I dropped an entire library in the bushes? What I want to know is what you were doing in my house.”
“I told you,” Erika said. “I came to see your grandmother. I was all mixed up, and I wanted someone to look into a crystal ball and tell me everything was going to be all right. That’s the truth, Bren.”
“But not the whole truth,” he said. He was really looking at her now and getting pains in his chest as he always did when he looked at Erika. To his surprise, she reached out her hand and pulled him down onto the top step of the stoop.
“No, of course not,” she said. “The truth is I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and when I found out about your grandmother, I felt I had to come and see if I could figure out the rest—you know, why you were always disappearing at odd moments and what there was about your house that I wasn’t supposed to know. I met your mother too, and Louise and Luna.”
Bren groaned and put his head in his hands. “Well, now you know, anyway,” he said in a muffled voice.
Erika stroked the back of his neck. “Now I know, and I think it’s all amazing and wonderful,” she said. “How could you think I wouldn’t, Bren? Did you think I was some kind of nitwit who wanted everything to be like a TV cereal commercial?”
Bren lifted his head and smiled uncertainly. “Never,” he said. “Not for a minute, but, you know, there’s normal, and then there’s different enough to be interesting, and then there’s my place. The gap between the last two, I’ve always thought, is unreasonably large.”
“We don’t really know each other very well,” Erika said. “How could we? And what happens is we keep making these ludicrous mistakes and then getting angry and upset.”
Bren stared at her. “There should be a way around that,” he said, “for two people who aren’t terminally stupid.”
“Like seeing more of each other?” Erika suggested. “Like talking to each other and telling the truth, at least part of the time, and taking walks and doing things together and what-not?”
“And lots and lots of what-not,” Bren said, putting his hands behind her head and closing the small gap that remained between them.
Through the massive front door there came an anguished yelp and a thump as Shadow, his patience tried beyond endurance, threw himself against the barrier that separated him from his friends. Erika and Bren sprang apart, suddenly aware of where they were—of the public nature of a front stoop in Manhattan and of the existence of other creatures in the universe.
“We could begin by taking Shadow to the park,” Bren said, “and carry on from there.”
“And on and on,” said Erika, scrambling joyfully to her feet. “And on and on and on!”