Bones of a Witch Read Free

I’m saying. You know I want you here. It’s just
that.… Did you know I haven’t been able to perform a level five
spell ever since my return to prime?”
    “No. I didn’t know that.”
    “It’s true. Every time a witch goes through the
rite of passage she emerges refreshed, replenished with the force
of the coven. But like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, she
needs to spread her wings and exercise them before she can take
flight. There’s a lot of work involved in harnessing all that
power. Can you understand that?”
    “Sure, you’re saying you can fly.”
    That remark earned me a punch to the ribs.
“Jesus, Tony. Sometimes I think you’ve been hanging around
Rodriquez too long. The stupid is rubbing off on you. And what the
hell is that in your pocket? I nearly broke my hand on
it.”
    “What? This?” I reached into my pocket and
pulled out my key chain, dangling from it a small rock carving of a
dolphin. She took it and held it away from her as if I had brought
a lump of dog shit into the house.
    “What the hell is this?”
    “What?”
    “This.” She pointed at the carving.
    “It’s a dolphin. Cute, huh? I bought it because
it reminds me of Florida.”
    “Where did you get it?”
    “From a street vendor on the corner. He has a
ton of these cool looking rocks that he carves into animal shapes
and then sells them on key chains. Why, what’s wrong with
it?”
    “This is dolomite.”
    “Yeah, I guess. The guy said it’s a
rock.”
    “Yes, it’s the type of rock used for making a
witch’s stone, something you need to know about if you’re going to
be a witch, and something you definitely don’t want to be walking
around with in your pocket.”
    I shook my head in ignorance. “Why
not?”
    “Because it’s a carbonate rock. It contains a
mix of minerals known to inhibit a witch’s powers.”
    “What, like kryptonite?”
    “Mother of…. Tony, no wonder I can’t do magic
in this house. See, that’s exactly what I’ve been talking about.
You’re a witch now. I’m a witch. We both have got to start acting
like witches together, or this simply isn’t going to
work.”
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Here, give it to
me.” I snatched the key chain from her and broke off the stone.
Then I walked to the front door, opened it and pitched the stone
out into the street. “There,” I said, kicking the door shut with my
foot. “Happy?”
    She turned her back on me without answering,
taking flight into the kitchen on an angry thread of steam. For
Lilith, that was as good as a yes, and I was happy to get it. With
that settled and behind us, I reclaimed my seat on the sofa and
turned the television back on. The mid-day news was just starting.
Barry Dell, anchor for WNCW news, led off the top of the broadcast
with a story about an ongoing road-widening project down by the
cemetery. I was still thinking about what Lilith said and not
listening much to the story, when Lilith’s scream sent me jumping
out of my boots.
    “Turn it up!” she cried. “Quickly, quickly,
turn it up!”
    I did, and she came around the coffee table to
take a seat on the sofa next to me. A live video feed from on the
scene now accompanied Barry Dell’s narrative. It showed a backhoe
sitting idle just outside the west wall of New Castle Cemetery
where a road-widening project was taking place. A close-up shot
moved in on a grave marker, long since knocked over and overgrown
with earth and vegetation for more years than anyone could imagine.
That the burial site lay just outside the original stone wall,
erected in 1746, suggested it likely contained the remains of one
of New Castle earliest settlers.
    Lilith and I both scooted to the edge of our
seats, crowding the TV in hopes of seeing the writings on the
marker as the TV camera zoomed in further on the granite slab. The
site foreman brushed his gloved hand over the stone, sweeping aside
the last of the dirt and grass obscuring the simple writing. As he
read the