Read Witches for Free Online Page B

She could understand why they called it Black Pond. The water was calm and so dark blue it appeared black.
    Tall water reeds and brown furry cattails waved in the breeze as hordes of tiny animals scurried about the water’s perimeter and in the pond itself. Waterfowl glided above its surface and called out plaintively. Insects droned along with the wind. A bluish mist floated oppressively above the pond even now in the brightest part of the day, and made her fancy that to walk into it would be to disappear into another time, another century. It was an eerie, breathtaking place.
    A strange place. She shivered, and wished she’d worn a heavier shawl. She’d been by the pond many times on the way to Mabel’s, but rarely stopped. Now, gazing out at the ruffling water and a distant line of birds racing high above, she wondered why she’d stopped today.
    An old place, she mulled over the realization, but not a happy one, she could sense it. The faintest traces of magic lingered on the breeze.
    Was this one of the meeting places of the satanic cult she’d begun sensing weeks ago, the cult everyone was gossiping about? The one she couldn’t seem to find or see when she scried?
    She couldn’t be sure.
    Muted images crowded into her mind of women and men moving around a bonfire, chanting obscenities and shedding innocent blood beside the pond in the dark and her face fell into a frown. Yes, long ago a witches’ coven had met here. Centuries ago. Yet her skin still crawled. Black magic. Satan worshippers. Then the uneasy feelings were gone.
    It’d been a long time ago.
    The leaves over her laced the blue sky and whispered things she couldn’t quite hear.
    Amanda could have sworn someone sighed her name. She listened for a few more minutes, but there was nothing, only the wind soughing through the trees.
    Loneliness did strange things to a person. She’d been achingly lonely these last months, cutting herself off from the world, like a wounded animal licking its wounds. It was time to rejoin humanity. The thought of a hot cup of tea with a friend, just to hear another person’s voice again, was so very appealing.
    She got to her feet, and as she was brushing off her skirts, she glanced up and saw the shimmering apparition. It hovered about midway across the pond, above the water, its face a misty white oval as its arms opened and beckoned toward Amanda.
    The specter was so faint. Amanda could barely tell it was a woman, but it was.
    She sensed such an overpowering melancholy in the spirit—an aching hunger—that it made her wince, cringe back from it.
    The ghost tried to speak, but the words were indistinguishable. As Amanda stared, startled but not really frightened, it dissolved into the mist, as if it had never been. All it left was a haunting echo on the chilly wind...
    Amanda...Amanda.
    It knows my name.
    For a time, Amanda stood there on the bank, speculating on the mystery. She’d never known a ghost to come uncalled ; she hadn’t summoned it. Moreover, it knew her name.
    A shiver swept through her body as she recalled what she’d almost done the night before.
    Had she called something up, anyway? Sucked a random haunt into her world?
    No, this ghost was different . She couldn’t put her finger on why—yet.
    A twig snapped loudly behind her.
    If I did accidentally bring something out from the spirit world, I’ll have to do another spell to reverse the damage.
    She turned from the pond and continued on her way.
    Soon Mabel’s trailer was looming in front of her.
    Mabel was rail-thin and not more than five feet tall, with pale blue eyes and wispy hair the color of clean snow that she wore tucked up with bobby pins. Lines etched her small face. Her eyes seemed to see right through a person. She appeared frail but had an indomitable spirit. Thought every day was a gift from God.
    When Gus, Mabel’s husband, had been alive, they’d had a lovely three-story Victorian farmhouse that had been in her family for over