Page 4 of Wicche Hunt

We’re Ready for Your Close-Up, Stheno

“Do you have any suggestions on how Arwyn can protect herself?” Declan asked.

Dave nodded. “There’s a spell that might work.” He paused, looking at Sam. “She knows a good one too.”

At that, Sam popped up and ran into the bedroom, coming back a moment later with a cracked leather grimoire under her arm. She sat and waited for Dave to share his first. I took notes and was able to practice it on him. On the third try, he disappeared. We all looked at one another.

“I didn’t just hurt him, did I?” There went my inside source to all things sorcery.

Sam waved her hand, brushing off my concern. “He’s fine. He’ll make his way back soon enough.” She looked toward the kitchen doorway. “Hmm. Be right back.”

She returned a moment later with a bottle of orange soda for me. She’d remembered. “I just wanted to check he didn’t have the oven or the burners on. Whoever didn’t get their dinner is out of luck at this point, but at least there won’t be a fire.”

She went to her chair, grabbed the grimoire, and opened it to a marked page. “Here. You can take a picture of it. The handwriting is really hard to read, but the spell works well.” She placed the book on my lap and I took out my phone, snapping a pic.

“Are there others in the book I should look at?” I asked.

She thought a moment. “You know what? You should just take it and look.”

I started to protest, but again, she waved off the concern.

“I’m not that kind of wicche, not a normal one.” She shrugged. “I was pretty surprised when that one worked and all these dark shadows rose up from the floor, taking bites out of Dave and then dragging him off this plane, down to Hell.” She shivered. “It was horrible.”

I took another look at the spell. “You did this to Dave?”

She looked so upset, I wished I could have pulled the words back.

“At the time,” Clive began, “Dave was being possessed by your aunt Abigail and her demon. He was choking the life out of Sam with a burning hand. It was either use the spell or die.”

“He was gone for days, though,” Sam said. “I was so afraid I’d done permanent damage.”

“Fuck,” Dave said, walking back through the doorway. “Like you could.” He patted my shoulder as he passed. “Good job.”

“Are you sure?” I asked Sam, holding up the grimoire.

“Absolutely. Stheno and I went through a bunch of grimoires looking for any spells that might help me with Abigail, but we bookmarked ones that just looked good. I couldn’t do them,” she said, holding out a hand to Fergus, who’d just trotted in. “Owen, the Slaughtered Lamb manager and wicche extraordinaire, said there were some really good spells in there. He took pics and shared them with his family.”

She nodded encouragingly. “I hold on to it because I love books, especially grimoires, even though I can’t perform the magic. You, though, actually need it to fight off a sorcerer. Take it.”

“Thank you very much.” I slid the book carefully into my backpack, considering. “Why do I know the name Stheno?”

Sam and Clive shared a look. “Well,” she said, “have you studied Greek mythology?”

I had for a project I’d worked on years ago. “I made a glass sculpture of Medusa’s head for a client. It turned out well. I don’t understand, though, how—”

“Stheno is Medusa’s sister,” Sam said. “There are three gorgons: Euryale, Medusa, and Stheno.”

I’m not sure what look I had on my face, but Sam looked concerned.

“You know a gorgon?” I shouted.

She nodded warily.

I grabbed Declan’s knee. “Oh my—would she be willing to sit for me? In fact, she doesn’t even need to do that. I could just take some photos and paint from that.” An actual gorgon. She knew an actual gorgon. Who the hell were these people?

“Show her the pictures from your wedding,” Dave suggested.

This time, it was Clive who went to the bedroom. He returned with a framed picture of a huge group of people. They were in the bar here, laughing and drinking.

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