Chapter Fifteen
Despite the open door, none of the knights turned toward her. Peasants ran through the brush, calling out to the knights. The entire yard must be enchanted. As she strolled slowly toward the gate, she put her shoulders back and her chin up, trying to resemble some of the ancient queens she’d seen depicted on temple walls. This was the exam that she’d been preparing for all her life. She swung open the garden gate, attracting attention.
The first knight removed his helmet and ogled her openly, until Esme growled, drawing his attention downward. “By St. Bartholomew’s bones,” he cursed, backing up his horse.
The other two knights turned. It was impossible to judge their expressions with their visors down, but their horses expressed their attitude clearly enough by side-stepping and pulling at the reins. It was time to take charge of the situation. It was like a mental order. She wouldn’t have been surprised if it had come from her grandfather.
Projecting her voice as she had learned to do in choir, she told them, “You appear to be an adequate escort to take me to my beloved Lionel.”
The three knights looked at each other as if confused by her words. “Do not give them time to think.” She knew where that order came from. “Knights, where is my mount?” she demanded, stamping her staff to make her petulance more real. She didn’t expect the lightning bolt shooting from the crystal. It was hard to tell who was more surprised, Simon flapping his wings wildly from his perch, the knights, or the peasants fleeing into the woods.
A white mare appeared in the clearing with a jeweled bridle and saddle. The white mare approached her and bowed down on its forelegs so she could mount. Thank goodness, for the trail rides in the park that Stella had insisted they do. She would make a point of thanking her when she arrived home. Inclining her head a mere inch, she said, “This mount is adequate,” but her attitude said just only.
Her horse followed behind the knights with showy steps, while Esme stayed close by. Trying to figure out what to do with her staff, she swung it around, trying to figure out how to ride with it, causing the knights to knee their horses to get out of her way. Eventually, she rested it against her thighs.
News of the slow-moving caravan must have reached people’s ears. They peeked through doors and windows and climbed to rooftops to spy. Leah kept her head up. She was no fearful peasant. She was the Queen, the Beloved. She smiled, thinking how right the words felt. Who knew she had her own inner mean girl to tap into? She certainly hadn’t. When she got back, she might have to be nice to Cerberus. Nope, that was just crazy talk.
Hadn’t she made this trip before? Hadn’t she been half dazed by pain? Before she could mentally revisit those memories, a familiar voice spoke in her head. “Act as you want to be perceived. It was quite common for people to taunt those charged with witchcraft, rather like kicking someone when they were down.”
A boy hid by a tree with a rock in his hand. Did he think he’d throw that at her or Esme? Simon lifted off from her shoulder and flew in the direction of the boy, who dropped his rock and fled. Simon circled the area and managed to scare out a few more people with rocks.
As they ran past, Leah looked at them, causing the women to scream and pull their aprons over their faces. What did these people believe that caused so much fear? It had to be something horrible to rationalize killing their neighbors and friends in horrific ways, all in the name of religion.
Miss Santiago had quoted some poem in class about a man in Nazi Germany. It was something about the man not saying anything when they took the Jews, because he wasn’t one. Then the Nazis rounded up more groups, until when they finally came for him, there was no one left to stand up for him. Were the people so unaware that this was only another genocide operation? Their time would come. There would be no one to stand up for them.
It was her time to stand up. They entered the courtyard of a long, block building. A burly man dressed in leather pants and vest approached her. A chill started up her spine–her torturer. He made a motion for her to dismount. “Do not dismount. You will be at a disadvantage.” This time she didn’t need orders. She knew getting off the horse would have been bad. She certainly hoped her mount wasn’t Horace the snake.
People began to slide through the open gates to watch the proceedings. The torturer gestured back to her, making her wonder if he were a mute or a victim of torture who’d had his tongue cut out. You’d think, if so, he’d have been more merciful, but most bullies were misguided, torturing the weak, not necessarily the deserving.
The knights pretended not to notice his gesturing. She wasn’t sure if they were mocking the man or unsure how to handle the situation. A young priest hurried out, spoke to the knights, who gestured in her direction, then spurred their mounts and left in a cloud of dust.
“Wait,” he called after them, but they did not hear, or they pretended not to.
The priest looked from her to the man in leather, who shrugged his shoulders.
It was past time to move this along, and she knew that this meeting should take place outside so all could witness it. “Tell my beloved Lionel I await his pleasure.” This caused some people in the crowd to titter. Most could remember the friendship between Arabella and Lionel. Some whispered she might have regarded herself well before, but now she was the bloody Queen of England.
The priest shuffled his feet and gestured to the open door behind him. “Come inside. Your beloved, I mean, Father Lionel waits.”
“No.” She only said that one word and regarded the priest as if he were joking. Her hands tightened around her staff, and she attempted to bring it upright. Simon lifted from her shoulder as if he didn’t trust the staff in her hand. Esme took the opportunity to growl. The crowd grew uneasy, backing up.
Lionel ran out of the building with his black robe flapping behind him. “What farce is this, Arabella?” The thin priest stumbled to an immediate halt, the words stopping as he took in the princely outfitted steed and the jeweled collar on the panther. He walked slowly around the three, making Leah turn her mount to keep him in sight. She didn’t trust the man, even if Arabella loved him now or had loved him in the past. Leah Carpenter knew a snake when she saw one. Placing her hand on her steed’s neck, she muttered a mental apology just in case her steed was Horace.
“No farce.” She smiled. “I came to see my beloved.” The men and women jostled each other to see if someone else had entered the area.
Putting a hand to his forehead, Lionel pretended to look in all directions. “The devil must be hiding. He can’t stand to be inside the church walls. I am surprised you haven’t burst into flames.”
“Hate to ruin your theory. I hear there is a whole lot more evil inside the walls than there is outside. Who needs the devil when you have the good abbot who enslaves you with drugs and makes up tales using his magick divination bowl? The bowl isn’t exactly honest, either. Remember when he showed you a picture of me with another man?”
The crowd whispered as Lionel looked down at his hands. His head snapped up. “You must be a witch. No one was in that room except the abbot and me.”
Inhaling slowly, she considered her reply. It was time to come out of the broom closet in a very big way. “I never said I wasn’t a witch. I said what you saw was a lie. The abbot used magick for evil purposes. I was only twelve when I supposedly played you false.”
Lionel held his hands over his ears, shouting, “Get behind me, devil.”
If only she had Arabella’s memories. She turned to the crowd, “What was I doing when I was twelve? Did I take off with some bearded courtier?” She had her fingers crossed, just in case she’d been a bit of a hussy. There was some chattering, but only one woman chose to come forth. “Your twelfth year was when your mother fell from the roof and broke her leg. She was mending the roof your father should have.”
The woman earned jeers from the men, while the women hooted in agreement.
“I took care of my mother.” She hoped that was the right answer.
“Not only that,” the woman continued, “you repaired the roof and helped me with my brood when they fell sick. No longer did you think yourself better than others. You had no interest in marriage or boys. Some thought you were holding out for something better than the men in our village, but I knew the only man you cared for had left town.” The woman looked pointedly at Lionel.
Nodding her head at the woman, she said, “Thank you.” What was her name? It would have been nice to know the woman who’d chosen to champion Arabella.
“Agnes. My name is Agnes. I did not expect you to remember it since you moved away with your husband three winters ago.”
Arabella was married. She had left town. Maybe Arabella had found some happiness, but this man, this sick, sick man, was determined to snatch it away from her.
“Well,” Lionel’s voice took on a sneering quality, “it looks like the wages of sin pay well.” He crossed his arms in front of him and rocked back on his heels as if he’d said something cleverer than a platitude repeated from countless pulpits.
“I am not sure to what you refer.” She wrestled the staff into an upright position over her burgeoning stomach. Where had that come from? Grandfather had warned her.
He looked pointedly at her stomach. At least she knew she was married, as opposed to being a rape victim, which was somewhat encouraging. Arabella had a chance at a decent life if she could just stay alive, the both of them. Of course, declaring herself hadn’t earned her any brownie points.
“Lionel, I wish for a moment you could hear yourself spouting these ridiculous platitudes. When you were a boy, you had a wonderful mind. You wanted to know the why behind things, and I loved you dearly. Now, you are a mindless cog in the church, striking fear into the people with your talk of demons and hell, squeezing them for tithes when they can barely feed their own families. You pretend to forgive their sins when yours are so much blacker.”
Lionel darted forward, as if to pull her off the horse. Esme growled, while Simon dived at his head, forcing Lionel to cover it with his hands. “Witch, baby killer, blood drinker,” he shouted from behind the shield of his bent arms.
She looked around at the crowd. Holding her staff, she waved it in a circular fashion, causing little spirals of dirt and leaves to lift off the ground. “Do you believe this?” A few shook their heads. Others nodded. Most managed to not move at all.
Looking at Lionel, she asked, “Do you believe this nonsense? After all, your church made it up, preached it from the pulpit, and printed the pamphlets. They had to use images since most people couldn’t read.”
One man volunteered in the crowd. “I saw one. The witch rode a broomstick across the sky.” People crowded around him, asking about the drawings.
Simon returned to her shoulder, which allowed Lionel to lower his arms. “If you are so smart, Arabella, as you always imagined yourself, why would the church do such a thing? Be careful. If you lie, you might be struck down by lightning.” He gave her a sly grin, declaring himself positive he had outfoxed her.
She smiled, looked back at the crowd, swarming the pamphlet viewer. They needed to hear what she had to say. It was as much for them as it was for Lionel. She shook her staff, wondering if she could get a lightning bolt out of it. Instead, fireworks burst into the sky, from Roman candles to pinwheels and bees buzzing across the courtyard. The crowd gasped, oohed and aahed, and eventually laughed at their initial fright.
“Very pretty,” Lionel commented, lifting an eyebrow. “Is that your answer? I expected as much from you.”
Leah would have liked lightning, but she had to admit she had the crowd’s attention now. “I came back for you, Lionel, because I cared about what you were being turned into with the drugs, the lies, and the witch hunts.”
Lionel started to speak, but she held her hand up. “I am not finished. You asked me why the church started these witch hunts. Number one, they want to wipe out all competing religions. They want to get rid of all worship of other deities. They cannot control people or their money if they are not part of the same faith. They also cannot allow those who practice the old ways to live. They are wrong. I come from a place where many religions exist side by side. It isn’t a perfect place, but people are free to practice their various faiths without fear of torture or death.”
One woman yelled out, “I thought your husband’s people were in the next village.”
“Farther than that,” was as much Leah was willing to commit to. She wondered why they only saw Arabella and not Leah. “More important,” she projected her voice, “the witch hunts are to frighten you. First, they make up the evil blood drinkers that only the church can get rid of for a price. Convenient, when no such people exist. If you ever say anything against the church, they can call you a heretic, threaten to send your eternal soul to hell, and torture you in this world. Don’t forget, they want your money and your land, too.”
The mob, swayed by the emotional images, began to gripe about the greedy church and bloodsucking priests stealing their immortal souls and their gold. The crowd seemed to change its tune. In fact, it might have been a great time to leave if Leah had had a clue which way to go. The sounds of a rowdy crowd were familiar enough to her. At least this time, they didn’t have pitchforks or flaming torches.
A short, bald man came slipping out the side door, carrying a cauldron. A sudden memory flash alerted her that she was in the presence of the black abbot, the clergyman who didn’t care who he hurt or killed in his quest for money and power. Grandfather had described him as a bad one. The fireworks and a large cat with a jeweled collar were enough to impress the crowd. Who knew what this man might do?
No one else noticed him. He put down the cauldron, waved his hands over it, commanding it. Lionel was yelling something. The crowd jeered him, but no one noticed the black ooze taking form above the pot. It resembled some type of twisted creature with wings. He was shaping it for her, that she knew. Think ahead. Was there any firepower left in the staff? She certainly hoped so.
Mesmerized by the black, oily creature, Leah was afraid to look away. The second she looked away, it would attack. The sun must have slipped behind the clouds. The sky grew dark, taking a bright sunny day into dusk in a few seconds. The sounds of wings flapping behind her came nearer. It was an illusion to distract her into turning away. It wouldn’t work. She would be ready when the dark creature sprang at her.
The screams in the background vaguely registered, along with Simon’s squeezing talons. The boy didn't do bird impersonations well. The abbot’s smug smile crumpled before he screamed as a river of fire hit him and his creature, igniting them both. Looking upward, she saw the silhouette of a huge golden dragon. Simon danced up and down her arm in agitation, which meant the dragon had to be her grandfather. Why was he here? He might miss going back in time.
His voice spoke clearly in her head. “I had to, Granddaughter. I saw the black abbot was up to no good. Only a ceremonial magician can deal with that type of evil. Let’s head back to the portal. I’ll show you the way.”
Holding the left rein tight, she turned the mare in a circle. Lionel stood near the smoking mess consisting of what was left of his mentor and his creation. Perhaps he hadn’t learned anything. Then again, some of the people in the village might have. They might hesitate to start up another witch hunt again. Arabella would live after she had her child.
Leah urged her mount after the golden dragon. The panther ran beside her while Simon flew overhead.
People actually cheered them as she rode. It was a little different from her earlier trip through town. Golden dragons had a way of reminding people that magick was afoot, even when they’d forgotten it. Magick performed in a beautiful way.
She could see the cabin through the trees, shimmering, changing, and hard to see. The portal was open. She didn’t have much time. The shadow of the dragon hovered over the portal, as opposed to landing. Grandfather was waiting for her. Digging her heels into her mount, she urged her faster, but she changed under her legs. Her white coat became brown and rough. Her beautiful, elegant head had huge horns. Her beautiful saddle disappeared, causing her to fall. Using the staff, she stopped her fall. She held herself up for a minute, watching the house in front of her blink in and out of existence. Her legs started running before she’d even formed a coherent thought. Her large pregnant belly slowed her down. Wrapping her arms around it, she sprinted for the gate. She made it inside the gate just as Grandfather changed to stand beside her. Outside the fence, Simon turned back into a teen, holding up the staff she’d dropped. Esme stood beside him, along with a beautiful, dark-haired woman who was obviously pregnant. Leah placed a hand on her flat stomach just as everything began to spin. There was a sense of movement and colors shifting that went on forever, only to end with them ejected as if out of a water slide...
Instead of being in a shallow pool, they found themselves in the back alley of a strip mall Laundromat that blew warm dryer-sheet-scented air on them.
Leah wondered if everyone who used the Laundromat always brought dryer sheets. Dryer sheets? That meant she was home. Her hand clutched her grandfather’s hand. His expression remained shuttered. Leah hoped he made it through the portal okay since he was no longer young.
Not opening his eyes, he said, “Use your barriers, child. There are some things I’d rather not hear.”
Good. Still alive. Barriers, she’d set them up. Pushing up, she looked around the area. It looked unfamiliar. Nudging her grandfather, she asked, “Do you know where we are?”
What if they’d showed up in the wrong country or century? They’d taken a right at that last portal when they should have taken a left. His eyes fluttered open. “Can you give me a minute? I want to appreciate things for the last twenty years I’ve been imagining. I don’t want to rush it. Think my calculations may have been off by a day.”
Leah stood still, holding her grandfather’s hand and tried to pull him into a seated position. “I noticed. You may not want to hurry, but I do. I can’t wait to shower off the smell of roasted human flesh. We need to hoof it home before the police pick us up.”
“Okay,” Grandfather agreed, as he struggled to stand. “I don’t remember standing being this hard. Do you think I aged while traveling through time? Like a thousand years?”
“Not a thousand, but a good five hundred,” she teased. She certainly felt years older than the girl who’d lived in fear of Cerberus. Once you met real evil face to face, mean girls were a poor second.
Pointing to the strip mall, he suggested, “We can go inside and use a phone and get a ride home?”
She couldn’t see anyone letting them use their cell, but someone might. Wait, her grandfather had meant a public phone. Did they have those anymore? They rounded the Laundromat to see a bar that offered a blue-plate lunch special.
“The Red Rooster. Charlie’s place.” His pace quickened as he approached.
Instead of explaining that she wasn’t allowed in the bar, she simply followed. The place was almost empty except for a woman contemplating a jukebox, while a bald man wiped down the bar. Grandfather stared at the man intently. “You’re Charlie’s son.”
“Yep,” the man agreed. “So who might you be? Already dressed up for Halloween?”
She watched her grandfather open and close his mouth without saying anything, upset that he wasn’t recognized. Stepping up to the bar, she winked at the man. “Surely, you recognize Buell Hare, the man who disappeared off the face of the earth, say, about twenty years ago.”
The man was suddenly interested in Grandfather. “Yes, I remember that tale. My dad came up with some outlandish tale about you disappearing in time. Did you?”
“I am not allowed to say,” Grandfather said with a smile. “Can I use your phone?”
The bartender pulled a desk phone from under the bar and placed it on the slick counter. Leah reached for the phone. “Let me call. I know the number, and they were kinda expecting me back, so it won’t be as big of a shock.”
Despite the open door, none of the knights turned toward her. Peasants ran through the brush, calling out to the knights. The entire yard must be enchanted. As she strolled slowly toward the gate, she put her shoulders back and her chin up, trying to resemble some of the ancient queens she’d seen depicted on temple walls. This was the exam that she’d been preparing for all her life. She swung open the garden gate, attracting attention.
The first knight removed his helmet and ogled her openly, until Esme growled, drawing his attention downward. “By St. Bartholomew’s bones,” he cursed, backing up his horse.
The other two knights turned. It was impossible to judge their expressions with their visors down, but their horses expressed their attitude clearly enough by side-stepping and pulling at the reins. It was time to take charge of the situation. It was like a mental order. She wouldn’t have been surprised if it had come from her grandfather.
Projecting her voice as she had learned to do in choir, she told them, “You appear to be an adequate escort to take me to my beloved Lionel.”
The three knights looked at each other as if confused by her words. “Do not give them time to think.” She knew where that order came from. “Knights, where is my mount?” she demanded, stamping her staff to make her petulance more real. She didn’t expect the lightning bolt shooting from the crystal. It was hard to tell who was more surprised, Simon flapping his wings wildly from his perch, the knights, or the peasants fleeing into the woods.
A white mare appeared in the clearing with a jeweled bridle and saddle. The white mare approached her and bowed down on its forelegs so she could mount. Thank goodness, for the trail rides in the park that Stella had insisted they do. She would make a point of thanking her when she arrived home. Inclining her head a mere inch, she said, “This mount is adequate,” but her attitude said just only.
Her horse followed behind the knights with showy steps, while Esme stayed close by. Trying to figure out what to do with her staff, she swung it around, trying to figure out how to ride with it, causing the knights to knee their horses to get out of her way. Eventually, she rested it against her thighs.
News of the slow-moving caravan must have reached people’s ears. They peeked through doors and windows and climbed to rooftops to spy. Leah kept her head up. She was no fearful peasant. She was the Queen, the Beloved. She smiled, thinking how right the words felt. Who knew she had her own inner mean girl to tap into? She certainly hadn’t. When she got back, she might have to be nice to Cerberus. Nope, that was just crazy talk.
Hadn’t she made this trip before? Hadn’t she been half dazed by pain? Before she could mentally revisit those memories, a familiar voice spoke in her head. “Act as you want to be perceived. It was quite common for people to taunt those charged with witchcraft, rather like kicking someone when they were down.”
A boy hid by a tree with a rock in his hand. Did he think he’d throw that at her or Esme? Simon lifted off from her shoulder and flew in the direction of the boy, who dropped his rock and fled. Simon circled the area and managed to scare out a few more people with rocks.
As they ran past, Leah looked at them, causing the women to scream and pull their aprons over their faces. What did these people believe that caused so much fear? It had to be something horrible to rationalize killing their neighbors and friends in horrific ways, all in the name of religion.
Miss Santiago had quoted some poem in class about a man in Nazi Germany. It was something about the man not saying anything when they took the Jews, because he wasn’t one. Then the Nazis rounded up more groups, until when they finally came for him, there was no one left to stand up for him. Were the people so unaware that this was only another genocide operation? Their time would come. There would be no one to stand up for them.
It was her time to stand up. They entered the courtyard of a long, block building. A burly man dressed in leather pants and vest approached her. A chill started up her spine–her torturer. He made a motion for her to dismount. “Do not dismount. You will be at a disadvantage.” This time she didn’t need orders. She knew getting off the horse would have been bad. She certainly hoped her mount wasn’t Horace the snake.
People began to slide through the open gates to watch the proceedings. The torturer gestured back to her, making her wonder if he were a mute or a victim of torture who’d had his tongue cut out. You’d think, if so, he’d have been more merciful, but most bullies were misguided, torturing the weak, not necessarily the deserving.
The knights pretended not to notice his gesturing. She wasn’t sure if they were mocking the man or unsure how to handle the situation. A young priest hurried out, spoke to the knights, who gestured in her direction, then spurred their mounts and left in a cloud of dust.
“Wait,” he called after them, but they did not hear, or they pretended not to.
The priest looked from her to the man in leather, who shrugged his shoulders.
It was past time to move this along, and she knew that this meeting should take place outside so all could witness it. “Tell my beloved Lionel I await his pleasure.” This caused some people in the crowd to titter. Most could remember the friendship between Arabella and Lionel. Some whispered she might have regarded herself well before, but now she was the bloody Queen of England.
The priest shuffled his feet and gestured to the open door behind him. “Come inside. Your beloved, I mean, Father Lionel waits.”
“No.” She only said that one word and regarded the priest as if he were joking. Her hands tightened around her staff, and she attempted to bring it upright. Simon lifted from her shoulder as if he didn’t trust the staff in her hand. Esme took the opportunity to growl. The crowd grew uneasy, backing up.
Lionel ran out of the building with his black robe flapping behind him. “What farce is this, Arabella?” The thin priest stumbled to an immediate halt, the words stopping as he took in the princely outfitted steed and the jeweled collar on the panther. He walked slowly around the three, making Leah turn her mount to keep him in sight. She didn’t trust the man, even if Arabella loved him now or had loved him in the past. Leah Carpenter knew a snake when she saw one. Placing her hand on her steed’s neck, she muttered a mental apology just in case her steed was Horace.
“No farce.” She smiled. “I came to see my beloved.” The men and women jostled each other to see if someone else had entered the area.
Putting a hand to his forehead, Lionel pretended to look in all directions. “The devil must be hiding. He can’t stand to be inside the church walls. I am surprised you haven’t burst into flames.”
“Hate to ruin your theory. I hear there is a whole lot more evil inside the walls than there is outside. Who needs the devil when you have the good abbot who enslaves you with drugs and makes up tales using his magick divination bowl? The bowl isn’t exactly honest, either. Remember when he showed you a picture of me with another man?”
The crowd whispered as Lionel looked down at his hands. His head snapped up. “You must be a witch. No one was in that room except the abbot and me.”
Inhaling slowly, she considered her reply. It was time to come out of the broom closet in a very big way. “I never said I wasn’t a witch. I said what you saw was a lie. The abbot used magick for evil purposes. I was only twelve when I supposedly played you false.”
Lionel held his hands over his ears, shouting, “Get behind me, devil.”
If only she had Arabella’s memories. She turned to the crowd, “What was I doing when I was twelve? Did I take off with some bearded courtier?” She had her fingers crossed, just in case she’d been a bit of a hussy. There was some chattering, but only one woman chose to come forth. “Your twelfth year was when your mother fell from the roof and broke her leg. She was mending the roof your father should have.”
The woman earned jeers from the men, while the women hooted in agreement.
“I took care of my mother.” She hoped that was the right answer.
“Not only that,” the woman continued, “you repaired the roof and helped me with my brood when they fell sick. No longer did you think yourself better than others. You had no interest in marriage or boys. Some thought you were holding out for something better than the men in our village, but I knew the only man you cared for had left town.” The woman looked pointedly at Lionel.
Nodding her head at the woman, she said, “Thank you.” What was her name? It would have been nice to know the woman who’d chosen to champion Arabella.
“Agnes. My name is Agnes. I did not expect you to remember it since you moved away with your husband three winters ago.”
Arabella was married. She had left town. Maybe Arabella had found some happiness, but this man, this sick, sick man, was determined to snatch it away from her.
“Well,” Lionel’s voice took on a sneering quality, “it looks like the wages of sin pay well.” He crossed his arms in front of him and rocked back on his heels as if he’d said something cleverer than a platitude repeated from countless pulpits.
“I am not sure to what you refer.” She wrestled the staff into an upright position over her burgeoning stomach. Where had that come from? Grandfather had warned her.
He looked pointedly at her stomach. At least she knew she was married, as opposed to being a rape victim, which was somewhat encouraging. Arabella had a chance at a decent life if she could just stay alive, the both of them. Of course, declaring herself hadn’t earned her any brownie points.
“Lionel, I wish for a moment you could hear yourself spouting these ridiculous platitudes. When you were a boy, you had a wonderful mind. You wanted to know the why behind things, and I loved you dearly. Now, you are a mindless cog in the church, striking fear into the people with your talk of demons and hell, squeezing them for tithes when they can barely feed their own families. You pretend to forgive their sins when yours are so much blacker.”
Lionel darted forward, as if to pull her off the horse. Esme growled, while Simon dived at his head, forcing Lionel to cover it with his hands. “Witch, baby killer, blood drinker,” he shouted from behind the shield of his bent arms.
She looked around at the crowd. Holding her staff, she waved it in a circular fashion, causing little spirals of dirt and leaves to lift off the ground. “Do you believe this?” A few shook their heads. Others nodded. Most managed to not move at all.
Looking at Lionel, she asked, “Do you believe this nonsense? After all, your church made it up, preached it from the pulpit, and printed the pamphlets. They had to use images since most people couldn’t read.”
One man volunteered in the crowd. “I saw one. The witch rode a broomstick across the sky.” People crowded around him, asking about the drawings.
Simon returned to her shoulder, which allowed Lionel to lower his arms. “If you are so smart, Arabella, as you always imagined yourself, why would the church do such a thing? Be careful. If you lie, you might be struck down by lightning.” He gave her a sly grin, declaring himself positive he had outfoxed her.
She smiled, looked back at the crowd, swarming the pamphlet viewer. They needed to hear what she had to say. It was as much for them as it was for Lionel. She shook her staff, wondering if she could get a lightning bolt out of it. Instead, fireworks burst into the sky, from Roman candles to pinwheels and bees buzzing across the courtyard. The crowd gasped, oohed and aahed, and eventually laughed at their initial fright.
“Very pretty,” Lionel commented, lifting an eyebrow. “Is that your answer? I expected as much from you.”
Leah would have liked lightning, but she had to admit she had the crowd’s attention now. “I came back for you, Lionel, because I cared about what you were being turned into with the drugs, the lies, and the witch hunts.”
Lionel started to speak, but she held her hand up. “I am not finished. You asked me why the church started these witch hunts. Number one, they want to wipe out all competing religions. They want to get rid of all worship of other deities. They cannot control people or their money if they are not part of the same faith. They also cannot allow those who practice the old ways to live. They are wrong. I come from a place where many religions exist side by side. It isn’t a perfect place, but people are free to practice their various faiths without fear of torture or death.”
One woman yelled out, “I thought your husband’s people were in the next village.”
“Farther than that,” was as much Leah was willing to commit to. She wondered why they only saw Arabella and not Leah. “More important,” she projected her voice, “the witch hunts are to frighten you. First, they make up the evil blood drinkers that only the church can get rid of for a price. Convenient, when no such people exist. If you ever say anything against the church, they can call you a heretic, threaten to send your eternal soul to hell, and torture you in this world. Don’t forget, they want your money and your land, too.”
The mob, swayed by the emotional images, began to gripe about the greedy church and bloodsucking priests stealing their immortal souls and their gold. The crowd seemed to change its tune. In fact, it might have been a great time to leave if Leah had had a clue which way to go. The sounds of a rowdy crowd were familiar enough to her. At least this time, they didn’t have pitchforks or flaming torches.
A short, bald man came slipping out the side door, carrying a cauldron. A sudden memory flash alerted her that she was in the presence of the black abbot, the clergyman who didn’t care who he hurt or killed in his quest for money and power. Grandfather had described him as a bad one. The fireworks and a large cat with a jeweled collar were enough to impress the crowd. Who knew what this man might do?
No one else noticed him. He put down the cauldron, waved his hands over it, commanding it. Lionel was yelling something. The crowd jeered him, but no one noticed the black ooze taking form above the pot. It resembled some type of twisted creature with wings. He was shaping it for her, that she knew. Think ahead. Was there any firepower left in the staff? She certainly hoped so.
Mesmerized by the black, oily creature, Leah was afraid to look away. The second she looked away, it would attack. The sun must have slipped behind the clouds. The sky grew dark, taking a bright sunny day into dusk in a few seconds. The sounds of wings flapping behind her came nearer. It was an illusion to distract her into turning away. It wouldn’t work. She would be ready when the dark creature sprang at her.
The screams in the background vaguely registered, along with Simon’s squeezing talons. The boy didn't do bird impersonations well. The abbot’s smug smile crumpled before he screamed as a river of fire hit him and his creature, igniting them both. Looking upward, she saw the silhouette of a huge golden dragon. Simon danced up and down her arm in agitation, which meant the dragon had to be her grandfather. Why was he here? He might miss going back in time.
His voice spoke clearly in her head. “I had to, Granddaughter. I saw the black abbot was up to no good. Only a ceremonial magician can deal with that type of evil. Let’s head back to the portal. I’ll show you the way.”
Holding the left rein tight, she turned the mare in a circle. Lionel stood near the smoking mess consisting of what was left of his mentor and his creation. Perhaps he hadn’t learned anything. Then again, some of the people in the village might have. They might hesitate to start up another witch hunt again. Arabella would live after she had her child.
Leah urged her mount after the golden dragon. The panther ran beside her while Simon flew overhead.
People actually cheered them as she rode. It was a little different from her earlier trip through town. Golden dragons had a way of reminding people that magick was afoot, even when they’d forgotten it. Magick performed in a beautiful way.
She could see the cabin through the trees, shimmering, changing, and hard to see. The portal was open. She didn’t have much time. The shadow of the dragon hovered over the portal, as opposed to landing. Grandfather was waiting for her. Digging her heels into her mount, she urged her faster, but she changed under her legs. Her white coat became brown and rough. Her beautiful, elegant head had huge horns. Her beautiful saddle disappeared, causing her to fall. Using the staff, she stopped her fall. She held herself up for a minute, watching the house in front of her blink in and out of existence. Her legs started running before she’d even formed a coherent thought. Her large pregnant belly slowed her down. Wrapping her arms around it, she sprinted for the gate. She made it inside the gate just as Grandfather changed to stand beside her. Outside the fence, Simon turned back into a teen, holding up the staff she’d dropped. Esme stood beside him, along with a beautiful, dark-haired woman who was obviously pregnant. Leah placed a hand on her flat stomach just as everything began to spin. There was a sense of movement and colors shifting that went on forever, only to end with them ejected as if out of a water slide...
Instead of being in a shallow pool, they found themselves in the back alley of a strip mall Laundromat that blew warm dryer-sheet-scented air on them.
Leah wondered if everyone who used the Laundromat always brought dryer sheets. Dryer sheets? That meant she was home. Her hand clutched her grandfather’s hand. His expression remained shuttered. Leah hoped he made it through the portal okay since he was no longer young.
Not opening his eyes, he said, “Use your barriers, child. There are some things I’d rather not hear.”
Good. Still alive. Barriers, she’d set them up. Pushing up, she looked around the area. It looked unfamiliar. Nudging her grandfather, she asked, “Do you know where we are?”
What if they’d showed up in the wrong country or century? They’d taken a right at that last portal when they should have taken a left. His eyes fluttered open. “Can you give me a minute? I want to appreciate things for the last twenty years I’ve been imagining. I don’t want to rush it. Think my calculations may have been off by a day.”
Leah stood still, holding her grandfather’s hand and tried to pull him into a seated position. “I noticed. You may not want to hurry, but I do. I can’t wait to shower off the smell of roasted human flesh. We need to hoof it home before the police pick us up.”
“Okay,” Grandfather agreed, as he struggled to stand. “I don’t remember standing being this hard. Do you think I aged while traveling through time? Like a thousand years?”
“Not a thousand, but a good five hundred,” she teased. She certainly felt years older than the girl who’d lived in fear of Cerberus. Once you met real evil face to face, mean girls were a poor second.
Pointing to the strip mall, he suggested, “We can go inside and use a phone and get a ride home?”
She couldn’t see anyone letting them use their cell, but someone might. Wait, her grandfather had meant a public phone. Did they have those anymore? They rounded the Laundromat to see a bar that offered a blue-plate lunch special.
“The Red Rooster. Charlie’s place.” His pace quickened as he approached.
Instead of explaining that she wasn’t allowed in the bar, she simply followed. The place was almost empty except for a woman contemplating a jukebox, while a bald man wiped down the bar. Grandfather stared at the man intently. “You’re Charlie’s son.”
“Yep,” the man agreed. “So who might you be? Already dressed up for Halloween?”
She watched her grandfather open and close his mouth without saying anything, upset that he wasn’t recognized. Stepping up to the bar, she winked at the man. “Surely, you recognize Buell Hare, the man who disappeared off the face of the earth, say, about twenty years ago.”
The man was suddenly interested in Grandfather. “Yes, I remember that tale. My dad came up with some outlandish tale about you disappearing in time. Did you?”
“I am not allowed to say,” Grandfather said with a smile. “Can I use your phone?”
The bartender pulled a desk phone from under the bar and placed it on the slick counter. Leah reached for the phone. “Let me call. I know the number, and they were kinda expecting me back, so it won’t be as big of a shock.”