“Careful around this curve. It’s coming up. There it is.”
He stopped the car at the foot of their grass yard, almost exactly where Tyler had been when Sasha’s mother watched from the downstairs window.
“Not exactly the boogeyman’s house.”
No lights were on upstairs and a red light was flickering again in the same downstairs window, which did create a certain spookiness, but the bright white porch light was on and it nearly washed out the red flashes. Just another house among hundreds, maybe thousands. How many other people in this neighborhood believed in witchcraft and even practiced it? Did Sasha’s mother participate in a coven?
“Her light’s not on.”
“She’s probably slaughtering the family cat in the basement.”
“Not funny.”
“Are you going to wait all night?”
“You said this was stupid and I’d do something rash.”
“No, I said you are acting rash and bound to do something stupid.”
“But you want me to go anyway?”
“No point in doing something stupid if no one is around to watch.”
“Thanks.” Tyler got out of the car.
He stood in the dark with the red light beckoning to him from the downstairs window in Morse Code fashion. What was the translation? Welcome back. Are you scared? Do you want to run away? Don’t you dare. You think your sister’s death was bad, just wait to see how bad this can get. Turn away now and you’ll see just how ugly this can be. You’ve been chosen and now you’ve got to embrace it.
The bright light above the porch had no secret voice attached. Tyler walked toward it and tried not to glance at that red window, which he did every other step. He had to get his thoughts straight. He couldn’t start fumbling with his words the way he had feared he would with Sasha’s bra. He had to be cool and focused with just the right amount of conviction. He had to make her fear him but not so much so that she was genuinely frightened. She’d probably ask Mommy to conjure another spell.
He waited at the front door for several seconds before knocking. The last time he had been here he hadn’t known what to expect and ended up with blood on his face. This time, he still didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to be taken by surprise.
After the next knock, the door swung wide so suddenly that Tyler stepped back to the edge of the top step and had to waggle his arms like a cartoon character to prevent falling backwards. Sasha’s mother stood in the doorway, bathed in black. The red light from the downstairs flickered over the side of her face. Her long hair was as it had been on Saturday: dangling in clumps around her face. Darkness masked her eyes, though her nose jutted from the shadows like a thick worm protruding from the soil. The porch light was angled toward Tyler like a spotlight, distorting Sasha’s mother even more.
Tyler cleared his throat in dramatic fashion, hoping that would break the tension and give him more confidence, but instead it only made him realize just how unwise this decision had been. He should have listened to Paul. What could he say? I need to talk to your psycho daughter. And oh, by the way, what was with that blood you threw in my face? Better yet: I know you cursed me, so take it off before I have to get nasty with you, ma’am.
“Is Sasha here?” he asked.
A low moan dropped from the woman like smoke rolling off a fire.
“Excuse me?”
The moan morphed to a growl that stretched out and out. She was preparing to cast another spell. He squinted at her sides but the darkness hid her hands, hid in fact most of her body, like she was merely floating in the doorway and her body was somewhere else. Downstairs, perhaps, stuck in a trance before some evil altar. She was in the middle of some kind of out-of-body experience. She could kill him and wake up to find his body on her front porch with no memory of what had happened. Some evil spirit was using her now, manipulating her to do its will.
“I need to go,” he said and started down the porch steps.
“You must accept your fate,” she said in a voice full of dirt.
He stopped at the bottom step, turned to her. Even more than before, she now appeared to float in the doorway. When she spoke, the red light reflected off her teeth to fill her mouth with blood.
“You did what you shouldn’t have and now you must accept it or your life will not be harmonious. You will forever be unbalanced until you embrace what you have done and how you must deal with it.”
Tomorrow in the sunlight or even minutes from now in Paul’s car speeding away from here, this would seem ridiculous. He would laugh about Sasha’s crazy mother who walked around in black robes and spoke like she was a villain in some fantasy movie. Witchcraft was a bunch of bullshit, anyway. He’d be able to tell himself that later, but right now his mind wouldn’t listen. The dark had thickened and pushed in, even dimming the porch light. He had made Paul drive over here because he was convinced that this woman was somehow responsible for what happened to Delaney and now he was completely convinced. This woman might be fucked in the head, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a genuine witch.
“Why did you kill my sister?”
A pause. “It has been cast. The universe will conspire for it to work.”
“What? You cursed me?”
She laughed in a low, grumbling way that made Tyler’s skin prickle.
“Why? Tell me why?”
The laugh grew louder.
“I didn’t do anything to Sasha. She”—you raped me—“wanted it. This is not my fault.”
“Fault doesn’t matter now,” she said. “It’s too late to change anything. It has been cast.”
“Uncast it, then! Take it back. Stop all this shit or you will be sorry.”
No response. He had sounded far more dangerous than he felt.
“There is only one way,” she said. “You must come inside.”
“So you can throw more blood in my face?”
“Perhaps.” Then she was gone and the doorway was empty.
He turned to Paul who had stepped out of his car and was leaning his arms on the top, head resting in his joined hands. He was having a great time watching, no doubt. Tyler gestured toward the open door. Paul shrugged and then held out one hand, palm open like a gentleman allowing a lady to cut into a line. Some help he was.
Someone had come out on the front porch of the neighbor’s house, which was partially obstructed with trees that hadn’t started blossoming yet. The person lit a cigarette and sat down. He had come out to watch the show and missed out. Tyler waited for a word or two from this person, a warning or something (don’t you dare go in there, boy, that lady’s crazy as a rabid bat), but the guy just smoked quietly. Typical night in Trailer Trash Town.
Paul waved at Tyler with his cell phone open in his hand. The small blue light from the screen was a smeared flame on the canvass of the night. Tyler touched the cell phone in his pocket, already on vibrate because of the wake, and nodded. That calmed him some. A phone was a rational thing, a logical product of a sane world. It might also be a lifeline if things turned ugly.
He went back up the steps, stopped outside the open doorway. He had been in this house in the middle of the day only a few days ago. The house was completely bland and average, at least upstairs, but now the darkness swirled and distorted the structure of the house the way fog can distort roads in the morning.
Witchcraft or bullshit, he had to go inside because he owed it to Delaney. If her death had been because of his action, then he had to right the wrong. Or punish the avenger.