Page 32 of The Neighborhood Witch

Alice gave Hugo a stern tap against his side, startling him. “Don’t you mean giving our heads a try at it? Besides, I’m sure Johanna has other things she wants to do.”

“Thank you for the invite. Bobbing for apples does seem—” Johanna paused. “Fun.”

Alice kicked Hugo’s boot. He took the hint that three was a crowd.

“You know,” Hugo added. “Actually, I promised to take Alice on the, um, Ferris wheel.”

“I’m afraid of heights, and I need someone to hold my hand,” Alice chimed in.

Johanna gave a half smile. She tapped the clasp twice. “I understand. Have fun.”

She stepped away before turning back. “Oh, Hugo, wasn’t the Ferris wheel Elizabeth’s favorite ride here?”

A solemn look masked Hugo’s face. He went to pinch his ring, but Alice’s hand intercepted him. She interlocked her fingers with his, holding tight.

“Enjoy, you two,” Johanna added before disappearing into the crowd.

Hugo stood there motionless. Alice placed her hand on his chest, below his shoulder. She rubbed his muscular chest over the black leather.

“Hey,” she said. Hugo locked eyes with Alice. “Come on. I bet I can get more apples than you.”

He smiled. “You’re on.”

Chapter 9

The Trial

The kettle whistled throughout the kitchen. Steam poured out and then disappeared like a ghostly apparition. Johanna Newes tempered the blue gas flame and removed the kettle from the stove burner. She poured the hot water into a burnt orange teapot. The tea steeped within an internal strainer. Johanna placed the kettle back down on the stove. She grabbed the teapot and proceeded into her living room.

A brass floor lamp with a navy hood was the only source of light in the room. Gold tassels hung down, concealing the light bulb underneath. The grandfather clock stood like a sentinel guarding the entrance to the kitchen. Its tick was the only sound echoing off the barren walls. A darkened lamp rested on a black stained oak side table next to the front window. The navy curtains blocked out the sights transpiring outside.

The gold wingback chair, filled with elegant flora designs, moved to the middle of the room. A side table waited next to it with a white teacup and saucer situated atop. The muted floral pattern matched the wingback chair. Johanna set the teapot down next to the cup andsaucer. She snapped toward the window; the noise outside drew her attention. She heard them—the voices of excitement from the ghouls and monsters and creatures that roamed the night.

Trick or treat. Beggar’s night.

What a wretched excuse to celebrate something so profane, she thought.So blasphemous.

She hurried over to the front door to verify the porch light was off. It was. She double tapped the cloak clasp pinned to her lapel. She then cupped her hands together and bowed her head as if she was giving a silent prayer. After a moment, she focused on an antique, carved oak display stand resting along the wall facing the wingback chair.

Elizabeth’s picture frame, the one given to her by Hugo, rested in the back corner of the table. Johanna stood up straight with her shoulders pulled back and arms at her side. She marched toward it with brief steps as if she were in a funeral procession.

Twisting legs rose from the ground to the flat top of the display table. A shelf beneath connected the four legs together. Built into the table were two rectangular drawers, intricately carved with images of a tree branch and oak leaf patterns. A chiseled wolf’s head served as a handle. An engraved oak leaf, with a brass key in its center, separated the two drawers. Johanna turned the key until a mechanical bolt unlocked. She gripped under the wolf’s jaw and pulled open the right drawer.

She removed a box from inside and placed it atop the table. It was a plain, black jewelry box with a tarnished metal hook clasp. She pulled on her hair tie behind her head. It slipped down and off the ponytail before she tossed the hair tie onto the table. Her brunette hair flowed behind her shoulders. She took a deep breath, holding it for a moment, and then drew out her exhale.

She unlocked the metal hook clasp methodically. A mixture of hesitation and determination. The clasp was free of its lock. She gave two rapid taps of her cloak clasp and moved her hands to the lid.Holding both sides, she opened the lid of the box. Her eyes looked away from the item inside, but she knew she had to face it.

Especially on this night.

She opened the left drawer and removed a black twisting stick. She held the anti-magick wand in her right hand and examined the twisted patterns leading to the point. It was twice as long as her hand. The thicker end rested on her palm. Her thumb followed the ridges of the twisting wood. She rotated the stick, her thumb now pressed against the flat bottom side of the wand. She held the wand above the box, ready to strike at the item held within. Her hand shook, and her arm tensed.

Do it, you coward, she thought. She reeled back with the wand higher in the air. Her arm now vibrated her shoulder and upper body.End it now. End the suffering. Do it!

Her nostrils flared. Anger in her eyes. Malice in her heart. Poised, she was ready to strike with hell’s fury at the item held within the black box. She gritted her teeth. Tears welled in her eyes. She held it for as long as she could.

Her arm lurched forward, but missed the intended target. She slammed the wand down onto the table. Her open hand held it in place. Johanna hunched over the table; her hair now covered her face. Tears flowed down her cheeks.

“I can’t do it,” she cried. “I can’t do it. I want it to end. Please make it end. Why did you do this to me? Why?”

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