The Wicked Witch Of Westerly

The Wicked Witch Of Westerly





Strange things began happening in Westerly when Margo Lightfoot, a mystery writer, moved to a small bungalow on the edge of town. She quickly became the object of their attention when Mary Lee, a precocious 12-year old girl came home so agitated and hysterical that her mother promptly called the preacher from their local Southern Baptist church. The preachers’ wife came instead, explaining her husband was otherwise occupied with a sick friend.

Rachel Lassiter, wife to Reverend Richard Lassiter, managed to calm the girl down and after much cajoling with the promise of ice cream and cake Mary Lee finally told what she had seen.

All three sat around the Formica topped kitchen table, white with fading green vines painted on top and surrounded by metal chairs covered with dark green plastic.

Rachel patted Mary Lees’ hand.

“Now, child, tell me what happened.”

The girls fright showed in her wide eyes, pale face and trembling lips. She looked at her Mother for support.

The girl’s Mother was concerned. She had never seen her daughter this frightened before.

“Go ahead, Mary. It’s all right. Tell us what happened.” Her Mother’s voice trembled slightly with fear of what would come forth.

“That woman’s cat…” Mary’s low hesitant words stopped.

Both women unconsciously held their breath.

“The cat changed into a woman!” Mary blurted out defiantly, daring either woman to disbelieve her.

“What?” The Reverends wife breathed the word in disbelief.

Mary Lee latched onto the woman’s disbelief and jumped from her chair, frustrated tears welling in her eyes.

“It’s true. I saw it. I peeked in the window and saw her talking to her cat then it just changed to a woman with long white hair and a white dress, then it changed back again.”  After Mary Lee finished her tirade, she looked at her Mother, then The Reverends wife, whose raised eyebrows and pursed lips were a sure sign of a skeptic.

“Maybe you just thought you saw a woman…” Her Mother started in a sympathetic voice.

“No, I saw it. Why did you make me tell you! I knew you wouldn’t believe me!”

Mary stumbled around a chair, causing it to scrape across the floor, before disappearing out of the kitchen. A door slammed at the back of the house.

Rachel spoke first.

“Don’t worry, Anna, she’s a twelve year old. Her body and mind are going through all sorts of changes. Trust me, it will be forgotten by tomorrow.”

Anna was staring at the patterns of the table, shaking her head.

“I don’t know, Rachel, she seemed so scared.”

Rachel rose to leave, patting her red flaming hair in place. Her hair reminded Anna of a wad of flaming red cotton candy around Rachel’s face, fuzzily shaping upwards to a small-knotted bun on top.

“All right, if you can get out of her whose window she was peeking into, I will go visit this woman myself.”

Anna watched her longtime friend pick up her purse and start toward the door. She rose and walked quickly to see Rachel out.

“Whose window she was peeking in is obvious, Rachel. She was curious about our newest neighbor, the writer.”

Anna opened the door for Rachel. Before exiting Rachel turned back to Anna.

“All right, I will go and visit this writer this afternoon, I’m sure there is a logical explanation.”




Westerly had been built on the discovery of gold in the late 1890’s by Doctor Chester Westerly. The Doctor and his family would “rough-it” once a year at the edge of a small tributary that broke off from the now famous French Broad River. He and his family would set up two tents; cook, hike and listen to the water splash and churn over the rocks of the fifty-foot wide river. Their campsite offered easy access to the shallow part of the river and they would wade with skirts and pants hiked up taking care not to get too close to the rapids toward the middle. It was on such an occasion that the Doctor was wading in the cold waters one morning when a glint beside his foot caught his eye. He picked up a chunk of rock the size of his fist and peered at it intently. The rest is History. Word spread quickly about the discovery of gold and thousands flocked in from all over the south. The Doctor saw an opportunity and snatched up five hundred acres of land before squatters could settle in.

Rachel Lassiter was thinking about this as she carefully and slowly maneuvered her Cadillac uphill through a narrow dirt road toward Coldwater Retreat. They should have called it “Westerlys’ Folly”, Rachel thought as her Cadillac creaked and groaned over a particularly deep rut in the road. The Doctors’ retreat consisted of 24 bungalows, each built in a different style of architecture with three main buildings. He had visions of enticing the then rich and famous to his neck of the woods. All he ended up enticing were deer, squirrels and rabbits, for the neighboring city of Asheville was too much competition for his modest endeavor. His Great-granddaughter sold it to an outdoor adventure club called Glory Rafting in 1967 and the company had been very successful. They would rent the bungalows to those who wanted to stay longer than one day and take advantage of the many outdoor activities that were offered in and around Westerly. And that’s the only reason the town survived. Visitors loved the small quaint town with its many antique shops and country restaurants.

Rachel’s’ Cadillac finally nosed into a clearing onto a blacktop that led to a parking lot. Damn, Rachel thought as she drove around the parking lot twice trying to find a parking spot, full. She pulled up in front of the main building, which housed the rafting company and parked her car. There were three groups of people milling about, all wearing orange life jackets listening to their respective guides giving instructions. As she opened her door and exited the car one of the guides broke away from his group. His long blonde hair was held in check with a red bandana tied around his forehead. He pointed at the sign that stated in bold black letters “NO PARKING”.

“You can’t park here.” He took in her pink dress belted at the middle with white patent leather, white high-heel shoes and her flaming frizzy red hair done up in a bun and thought about the 1950s’ newsreels he had once seen.

“I just need to find out where Margo Lightfoot is staying.” She countered with much irritation.

He pointed toward a blacktop road leading off to the left of the third main building.

“Go that way about a quarter of a mile until the road forks, take the right fork, it’s the last Bungalow, the Spaniard.”

“Thank You.”

Without saying a word he returned to his group and Rachel got into her car.

She hated tourist season. She didn’t like all the strangers coming into her town and dwindling the congregation down to just a few people for five long months. After all that’s how she and her husband made their living. Oh, they received a small penance from the town treasury and the house next to the church was rent-free, but they largely depended on the donations of their congregation when the plate was passed around on Sundays. Half went for their needs and the other half was kept in escrow for charity.

After driving through dense woods on a narrow blacktop for what seemed forever she spotted the Spaniard. Parking her Cadillac next to a silver BMW she took in the Spanish style bungalow.  She gazed at the one story beige stucco with four narrow archways fronting a cement veranda that partially hid the narrow arched windows behind. A redstone pathway cut a trail between a myriad of tropical plants. As Rachel exited the car she heard the bungalow door open. A woman with snow-white hair tied back with a red ribbon smiled and walked gracefully toward Rachel with outstretched hand.

“You must be Mrs. Lassiter. Hello, I’m Sylvia Knight, Ms. Lightfoots’ assistant.”

Rachel just stared, noting the white thin linen crinkly dress that hit right above her ankles. Shiny white ballerina type shoes and white stockings finished the ensemble. Rachel could not tell how old the woman was. She could have been twenty-five or fifty. She wore no makeup, but her face displayed the freshness and pinkness of a young girl belaying the wisdom that emanated from her black-lashed eyes. Rachel took her hand and immediately drew it back feeling the chill through her gloves.

“Follow me, Ms. Lightfoot is expecting you."

Once inside they stepped down one step to enter a huge room with pink stucco walls and a dark wood beamed ceiling. The floors were covered with large square pink tile and Rachel was keenly aware of the heavy clicking her high heels made against the floor. Sylvia’s’ feet made no sound as they walked through the great room, through the kitchen and onto a bright covered veranda loaded with the same tropical plants that were at the front. A small gray haired woman sat at an elaborately decorated wrought iron table. As they entered she stood.

Ms. Lightfoot was smaller than Rachel had expected, standing barely five feet, dressed in black pleated slacks, a black silk long sleeved shirt and barefooted

“Mrs. Lassiter, so nice of you to come. Please sit.” Her warm small hand was a far cry from Sylvia’s.

Rachel sat in the suprisingly comfortable wrought iron chair with the overstuffed cushioned seat and back. Slyvia had quietly disappeared.

Margo sat and folded her hands on the table.

“Now, what can I do for you, Mrs. Lassiter?”

“First of all, let me welcome you to our little town of Westerly.”

The writer cocked her head slightly and smiled.

Rachel paused, not knowing how to continue.

Margo spoke.

“You are concerned about the child, Mary Lee?” It was a question and a statement.

Rachel’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed with suspicion.

“How did you know?”

Rachel jumped inwardly when she realized Sylvia was standing right beside her holding a tray loaded with a pitcher of iced lemonade and three glasses. Sylvia sat the tray down poured three glasses, distributed them and then sat herself down opposite of Rachel.

“We both saw her looking through the window in the front room with such a horrified look on her face. When we went outside to offer her some lemonade, she had disappeared.”

“How did you know who she was?”

Unreadable sky-blue eyes peered at Rachel over the glass Margo was in the process of drinking from. She put the glass down slowly. Rachel noticed the writer did every movement very methodically.

“She has been roaming through these woods every day now since we’ve been here. A few discreet inquiries produced her name.”

“Is the child all right?” Sylvia asked. A genuine look of concern crossed her face.

“Why yes.” Rachel chuckled to ease her nervousness. “She claimed to have seen…”

A white cat jumped on the table in front of Rachel interrupting her disclosure. The cats’ tail swayed as it stared at Rachel with jade-green eyes.

“Bad Thomas.” Margo disciplined the cat half-heartedly as she picked him up and sat him in her lap.

“So sorry, I let Thomas get away with way too much.” Her voice was as soothing as the cats purr, produced by the soft stroking of its owner.

Rachel looked from the cat to Sylvia and back again, enlightenment infusing her mind.

“Yes, yes, I believe she will be quite all right.” Rachel laughed nervously."She thinks your asociate can change into a cat."

Sylvia and Margo exchanged quick glances and suddenly the outside veranda felt stiflling to Rachel. She stood.

“Thank you for the lemonade, but I must be going. I am on the planning committee for our annual old town festival. And its this weekend. So many last minute details.”

They both rose and watched the woman fumble nervously with her gloves, twisting and wringing them in her hands. Rachel invited them to participate in the festival and was led out of the bungalow.

Once in her car Rachel realized she had been sweating and a feeling of dread overcame her, urging her out of the vicinity as quickly as possible.



But Mary Lee was not all right. She had sulked in her room all day and that night came down with a mysterious fever. Once in the hospital the Doctors could not give her mother, Anna, any explanations. They would manage to subdue the fever for a while, then a few hours later it would come back even stronger. The Doctors were baffled. They had found no infection, no bacteria, no toxins and nothing showed up in the MRI.

For three days and three nights Anna never left her daughters side, escaping only for a few moments to purchase a soda and crackers from the vending machines in the hall. The nurses managed to find a roll-a-way bed for Anna to sleep in the room with her daughter, but she got little sleep. Mary was in and out of consciousness, sometimes very quiet and other times flaying about on the bed with horrifying hallucinations, screaming about witches and cats and something about the Television being on fire.

Anna had finally fallen asleep and was dreaming about being in total blackness. She was afraid to move. In front of her was a small flickering of light and slowly it grew as it came closer. She could see the shape of a woman with long flowing white hair that fanned in all directions around the face. The shape floated in an envelope of shimmering mist as it moved silently closer to Anna. Anna put the palm of her hand over her heart fearing it was ready to jump out of her chest. The woman stopped in front of Anna, smiling sweetly and calmly. Anna had to look up to the apparition that floated effortlessly in the air. A hand reached out and was gently placed on Anna’s shoulder. The hand shook her shoulder. The apparition was fading.

“Mrs. Lee. Mrs. Lee.”

The haze of dream sleep slowly withdrew to be replaced with an old wrinkled face. She blinked several times trying to make sense of what was going on.

“So sorry to wake you Mrs. Lee but I need to talk to you about Mary.”

She found herself in the semi-dark hospital room staring up at Dr. Steiner, Mary’s doctor.

Suddenly making sense of what he had said she threw the afghan off and straightened up in the chair toward her daughter.

“What’s happened? Is she all right?”

He was flipping through papers attached to a clipboard.

“Yes, her fever has subsided a little. We want to transfer your daughter to Eagleston in Atlanta. They have the best doctors in the Southeast there. If anyone can find out what’s wrong, they can.”




Nancy Williams was heading toward the patrol car with two cups of coffee in hand when the call came over the police radio. Her partner, Kenny Allgood, leaned over from the drivers’ side and opened the door from the inside. She handed him a cup of coffee and barely had time to close her door before he had the car quickly traveling down the deserted street.

“We got a call?” She asked, trying to juggle her coffee and attach her seat belt at the same time.

He nodded. “Yeah, the Beems baby has been kidnapped.”

Nancy took this news in surprised silence. Crime rarely occurred in Westerly. The town had four police officers, two dispatchers and one police chief. Nancy and Kenny worked the night shift and spent most of their time just patrolling around. An occasional drunk and disorderly call would come from Carla’s Inn, the only hotel in town, a 150-unit two-story structure that was packed to the gills during tourist season.

They passed through the three intersections of Main Street quickly and was crossing the railroad tracks when the radio crackled followed by a woman’s voice.

“Kenny, come back.”  Sheila, the nighttime dispatcher, said informally.

Kenny grabbed the radio handset and pushed the button.

“Yeah, Sheila.”

“The baby’s been found unharmed. But you still need to go out there, they got something to show you.”

“On our way. ETA about 15 minutes.”

“Roger that. Over and out.”

The radio crackled once again and silenced.

Kenny turned onto a dirt road that inclined sharply all the way to the Beems cabin. Grayish-blue moonbeams filtered through misty fog causing the otherwise dense woods to look eerily fairylike.

As they pulled up to the Beems cabin Nancy saw the whole family standing on the porch, all seven of them. The woman, Bethany Beems, was cradling her baby tightly against her chest.

Before they could exit the car, Jeremy Beems, a tall skinny man came running to the car looking flushed and excited. He pulled the half open car door all the way.

“Ken, we gotta go after them!” he yelled partially blocking Kenny. Kenny eased all the way out of the car gently pushing the excited man back.

“Calm down, Jeremy.”

“They’re still out there!”

“Jeremy”, Kenny placed his hands on Jeremy’s shoulders, “Your daughters safe now, let’s go inside and you tell us what happened.”

Nancy raised the blanket and peered at the tiny pink face.

“You think she needs to go to the Hospital? Just to have her checked out.”

Bethany shook her head with long blonde curls bouncing.

“No, I checked her real good when Jeremy brought her back from the woods.”

Jeremy and Kenny joined everyone on the porch. Nancy and Kenny noticed the shotgun leaning against the wall beside the door.

“This is officer Williams, my partner. We need to know everything that happened here tonight.”

Bethany nodded and headed for the door.

“Come on in, Officers, I’ll make some coffee.”

After Bethany placed the baby in a small pink carrying seat she instructed her oldest son Matthew to put the rest of the children back to bed.

Over coffee, Jeremy relayed the story of how their baby had been whisked away in the night.

“Beth is a pretty light sleeper so we don’t know how Becky was taken out of our room.”

Doors had no need to be locked in Westerly, especially high on the mountainside where the Beems lived.

Four were sitting at the oblong pine table. The log cabin walls were lined with horizontal pine-polished boards.

They felt safe and secure inside the brightly lit kitchen.

The story Jeremy recited was both horrifying and unbelievable at the same time.



Beth had been awakened by the sounds of her baby crying outside the cabin. She immediately woke her husband, who glanced at the empty crib, dressed quickly in jeans only and grabbed his shotgun on his way out the door. He followed the cries and soon spotted a hooded figure wearing a long dark cloak scurrying up the hill behind their cabin.

“Stop! I’ll shoot!!”

The figure stopped and turned. Even the bright moonlight would not reveal the face under the hood, but Jeremy could clearly see his baby clutched in the arms of the mysterious figure. Knowing the Father would not risk shooting his baby the figure continued at a faster pace.

Jeremy quickened his pace and stumbled up the hill. When he saw the figure disappear over the crest and heard the maniacal laughter his desperation showed in loud and ragged breathing.

He finally topped the hill and a glimmer of orange from within the woods caught his eye, but no sign of the dark figure. He started running toward the light. As he ran, watching the light grow in size, he heard what sounded like birds taking flight. There was only the sound of flapping wings, no bird cries. He broke from the woods into a huge circular clearing, a bonfire crackling and burning in the center. He turned sharply at the sound of his daughters’ cries and saw her lying on a bed of straw at the edge of the clearing.

Picking up his baby, he glanced around, his mind taking in but not fathoming the huge oak tree stump close to the fire. He left the spooky place quickly, his daughter in one arm and his shotgun in the other.

“And then you two arrived.” Jeremy finished.

Kenny’s face showed no emotion as he rose from his seat.

“All right, lets go take a look at this clearing.”

As two police officers and Jeremy walked toward the clearing, their flashlight beams darting and skirting the woods, Jeremy spoke in a reverent whisper.

“I tell you, Kenny, I have been living here for twenty years and have never run across a clearing in that area.”

They searched for an hour and found no sign of a bonfire, no circular clearing and no oak tree stump.



Back in their police cruiser Kenny spoke while navigating down the sharp incline.

“Well, what do you think?”

Nancy shook her head.

“I don’t know. I’m sure their baby was kidnapped…but the rest…it just sounds too fantastic.”

Kenny glanced at his watch.

“It’s four-thirty. We should get back to the station and write up our report.”

The radio squawked.

“Kenny, come back.”

He picked up the receiver and pushed the button.

“Yeah?”

“Chloe Osborne was just taken to the hospital. Says she was attacked in her own home.”

Nancy and Kenny glanced at each other. Two calls in one night? Unheard of.

“We’re on our way.”




Chloe Osborne was the towns’ femme fatale. Everything she wore looked two sizes too small, hugging her body and showing off her Marilyn Monroe type curves. She wore her long blonde hair in a Veronica Lake style, constantly brushing it back away from her eyes, a move calculated to enhance her sexuality.

It was rumored that she had the men of power and prestige in the palm of her hand as far away as Atlanta. More than one congressman or city councilman had been seen going and coming from her house, an old southern style plantation mansion on the edge of town. Her Father had invested his money and made a killing in the stock market leaving six million dollars to her and her brother, Keith Osborne.

When Nancy and Kenny walked in the hospital room, Keith was sitting beside Chloe's bed holding her hand. His police uniform was disheveled, his shirt out and unbuttoned. He immediately rose at the sight of the other two officers.

“Hey, Buddy, what happened?” They had been friends since the first grade

Keith glanced back at his sleeping sister and put his arm around Kenny’s’ shoulder to lead him out of the room, nodding at Nancy in greeting.

Once outside in the hall Keith started talking. The two night shift officers noticed the bloodstains on Keith’s t-shirt.

“I had just gotten up to get ready for work when I heard this god-awful scream come from down the hall. I grabbed my gun and ran. I could hear what sounded like a struggle from sissy’s bathroom. But when I got there no one was there except Sis, sitting on the floor crying.”  He paused, took a deep breath and looked Kenny straight in the eye.

“I was coming straight down that hallway, nobody could have gotten out without me seeing them.”

Nancy spoke up. She had her pad out and was writing everything down.

“A window?”

Keith shook his head.

“No, that bathroom is right off the hall, no window, just a six inch skylight.”

Keith was pale and very distraught. Kenny offered a little comfort by placing his hand on his friends' shoulder.

“Keith, did Chloe say anything?”

“No, she kept crying and holding her bloody face. God, its awful, her face, its all cut up. The mirror in the bathroom is all smashed, has blood all over it. They had to tranquilize her.”

Keith was a big blonde haired man with a boyish face that held a look of disbelief and devastation.

“All right, Keith,” Kenny was worried about the look on his friends face, “You stay with your sister, I’m sure the chief will understand. When she wakes up see if you can get out of her what exactly happened.”

Keith nodded and strode back in the room.

Nancy glanced at her partner while she folded up the notepad and placed it with the pen in her front shirt pocket.

“You think she did it to herself?” Nancy asked as they started toward the elevator.

“I don’t know.”

The elevator doors opened to reveal the newest member of the Westerly police department. A slender, medium height young man with straight black hair, peered at them in surprise through dark slightly slanted eyes. His mother was Chinese, his father a local farmer.

“What happened? Sheila told me Keith’s sister was attacked.”

“Yeah, Officer Osborne could use some company right now. Williams and I are going to the Osborne house and check it out.”

Brian Carter nodded

“Right.” And hurried down the hall.

Nancy and Kenny reached their police car at the same time a fire truck whizzed by with sirens blaring.

Kenny removed his police hat and rubbed his short-cropped marine style brown hair as he watched the fire truck pass by.

“Damn, what now?”

He threw his hat in the cruiser and grabbed the radio handset.

“Dispatch.”

The radio crackled.

“Kenny.” Sheila sounded irritated. “I called you and Carter several times and got no answer.”

Their department couldn’t afford remote radios, tazers or vests.

“There’s a fire at Carla’s Inn. What the hell is going on here tonight?”

“Everything. We’re heading to Carla’s.”

“Ten-four.”

Kenny gave his partner a look of 'I don't beleive this'.

“Looks like we have to put in some overtime. You up to it?”

“Let’s do it.” Nancy answered.



The black billowing smoke made an ominous undulating shadow against a purple sky, ripe with the promise of sunrise.

Half-dressed people were milling out looking dazed, sleepy or confused. Some children had only underwear on, their mother and fathers in pajamas and nightgowns.

Williams and Allgood headed toward the fire truck where fire chief Grayson was fumbling with his heavy fire suit trying to get it on quickly. His big round belly was making it difficult to zip it up.

“Damn it, I haven’t worn this thing in months. My wife has been feeding me too good.”

He grabbed his facemask and oxygen tank from the equipment locker at the back of the fire truck. He nodded toward Nancy and Kenny.

“My boys told me I should see something up there.”

He looked over their shoulders behind them.

“Jackson, Sweeny!” he yelled

Two firemen came ambling over.

“Loan these two your masks and tanks.”

The two officers took the equipment and put them on.

Grayson’s’ muffled voice came through the mask.

“The fire’s out, but there is still a lot of smoke.”

They entered the building against a flow of exiting people. The two firemen were instructing them to go across the street and wait until further notice. There was a murmuring here and there but the evacuating people were mostly silent.

The ornate lobby decorated in turn of the century furniture was almost empty. Only a few stragglers continued to exit the building. They climbed the curved staircase, turned right and followed the smoke, which lingered in the air as dark thin wisps. Entering the room all three removed their masks. The smoke was almost gone except for a few clouds hanging around the ceiling corners. Four firemen made a semicircle around the foot of the bed looking down. Two held fire extinguishers as though they were waiting for more flame to flare up. They parted when the fire chief and the two officers approached the bed.

Two bodies, blackened beyond recognition, were in a lovers embrace. The bed covers and sheets were in disarray underneath the bodies. Nothing else was burned except a little of the sheet around and underneath the bodies.

Nancy couldn’t help but stare in horror while her partner was looking around the room. Several empty beer bottles were on the table and floor. A small plastic bag of pot sat next to the beer bottles and two half-smoked pot joints in the ashtray.

“Damn, she must have really been hot.” One of the firemen said and chuckled nervously.

He received no response from the rest of the firemen.

“Chief, are you finished in here?” Kenny spoke up still staring at the bodies.

“Uh, yeah, hell, I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Ok, this room is going to be sealed off. Chief you need to call the county fire investigator. I’ll bring in the county coroner. Nothing in here is to be touched.”

One of the firemen holding a fire extinguisher spoke up

“We’re just going to leave them here? I mean, the smell, what about the guests?”

“They are going to have to leave, but not before I question them.”

The chief was bending down toward the bodies, sniffing.

“Damdest thing, I don’t smell any accelerant.”

“All right, lets go. Nancy would you go and get the crime tape from the trunk?”

Kenny ushered everyone out and stayed behind to watch over the crime scene.

Nancy followed the firemen out. She had found the crime tape and was on her way back when she glanced at the crowd and noticed a familiar face.

She walked over to the two women. One was short with short straight gray hair wearing black slacks and a long sleeved black silk blouse. The other was tall, slender woman with striking long white hair tied back with a red ribbon.

“Are you Margo Lightfoot?”

She was cradling and stroking a white cat with jade-green eyes.

“Yes, I am. Was anyone hurt?” She seemed genuinely concerned.

“I’m afraid so Mrs. Lightfoot. I thought you were staying at the Glory Rafting bungalows.”

“I am and its ms.”

“So what are you doing here?” Nancy had just finished reading her latest book “Loved to Death” and recognized her from the photograph on the back cover.

Margo looked down at the fidgety cat in her arms.

“Stop it, Thomas.” Without looking up, trying to calm the cat she continued.

“One of the rafting guides was technically assisting me with my next book. I came to finalize the contract, but alas, I never got to see him for the fire started and we were run out.”

“At five-thirty in the morning?” Nancy had a natural suspicious attitude.

The woman looked up, her eyes narrowed only slightly, but enough for Nancy to catch.

“He had to be at work at seven AM so he asked me to come by at five thirty.”

“And what’s this guides name?”

“I don’t believe I caught your name, Officer.”

“Nancy Williams. The guides name?”

“You are a persistent little bugger aren’t you? I assure you I had nothing to do with this fire. I was in the lobby the whole time. Ask the hotel clerk.” The cat was squirming and twisting hard now, trying to escape his owners’ arms.

“Officer Williams.” A young fireman had run up to the three women.

“Officer Allgood needs you upstairs.”

“Ok, I would appreciate it if you would not go anywhere, Ms. Lightfoot. We are questioning everyone in the hotel.”

No response from the strange duo.

The sun was finally peeking over a mountaintop, throwing a golden glow on the white four columned building. Nancy looked up at the second story and would not have guessed a fire had been there only moments before. She looked back at the now restless crowd before entering the building. The writer and her friend had disappeared.



All was quiet in Westerly for the next few days and the day of the Festival was finally here.

Main Street had been cordoned off so only foot traffic was allowed to roam down the middle of the street among a variety of booths and local vendors hawking their goods.

It was traditional for all the locals manning their booths to wear 1890’s costumes.

Rachel Lassiter was wearing a dark green long dress, buttoned from waist to neck and long sleeves. A dark green bonnet topped off the sobriety of the dress befitting a preacher’s wife.

She stood in front of the photography booth stiff and angry berating a small brown haired mousy looking girl, dressed in a child’s dress with a white apron over the bodice and down the length of the dress.

“Where’s your father?”

“He’s coming, Mrs. Reverend sir.” She spoke with a trembling fear, looking down, afraid to meet the woman’s eyes. She pretended to be otherwise occupied with the leaflets advertising her fathers’ photography studio.

Probably drunk, Rachel thought as she rapped her knuckles on the wooden counter.
“This will not do. This is the most popular booth. It should have been ready to go hours ago.”

The young girls hands stiffened over the pamphlets and she spoke in hesitant defiance. "He'll be here."

Just then a portly balding man emerged from behind the curtains in the back, adjusting his tight fitting costume.

Rachel could smell alcohol even from this distance.

“It’s about time, Silas, now get this thing going.”

Rachel snorted in disgust and turned sharply, walking away stiff-backed.

Rachel missed the obscene gesture thrown at her retreating back.

She looked at her watch. Ten AM and the crowd was beginning to swell. Rachel made her way from booth to booth, and stopped short in front of a booth she had not authorized.

Sitting behind a long rectangle table shaded with two umbrellas was none other than Margo Lightfoot and her entourage. Scattered across the table were copies of her latest books.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t authorize this.”

Margo peered at Rachel though unreadable pale-blue eyes.

“And a good morning to you too, Mrs. Lassiter. I do recall you inviting me to participate in the festival.”

Rachel saw the small black and white sign sitting on the table announcing Schuler’s Book Store.

Rachel seethed. She leaned on the table with both hands and placed her face within inches of Margo’s. Margo didn’t budge.

“Don’t mess with me. I know what you are.” Rachel whispered harshly through clenched teeth.

Margo felt Sylvia move slightly next to her and stopped her with a hand placed gently over hers. Rachel and Margo locked eyes in a silent battle of wills.

Rachel smiled and straightened up.

“How long will you be staying with us?”

“As long as it takes.” Margo smiled back.

Rachel’s smile dropped, she stared for a moment, then turned and walked away.



“Sorry I’m late,” Nancy was running into the small two-room police station, adjusting her belt, which held the holster and gun on her hip, “I got maybe three hours of sleep and my dog picked this particular evening to run off.”

Their chief wanted them to pull a twelve-hour shift tonight for the festival.

Breathless she sat down at her desk across from her partner. He had not acknowledged her arrival but seemed engrossed in a folder he held in front of his face. She waited for a response and receiving none she spoke up.

“What’s that?”

He glanced at her over the folder.

“Oh, hi. This is the coroners report and the fire investigators report’s right here.” He patted another folder on his desk.

His brows furrowed as he went back to reading.

Nancy was not a patient person.

“Well, what does it say?”

“It says cause of death severe and accelerated destruction of all tissues by burning. Manner of death unknown.”

“And,” he reached for the other folder and handed it to Nancy, “cause of fire unknown.”

She opened the folder and scanned it quickly. The two-page report was easy to read. Almost all the blocks were checked with unknown except for the accelerant block that had the hand written note “none found”.

Kenny leaned forward tapping the page he was reading.

“And this is the most interesting part. When the coroner opened our vics up there was nothing but ashes. Nothing left but bones, a few muscle tissues and skin.”

He handed the report to Nancy.

“Spontaneous human combustion.” The chief spoke from behind Nancy holding a coffee cup in one hand and a half eaten sandwich in the other. He was a big, barrel-chested man with black hair and beard.

They both looked at him.

He nodded. “Yeah, there are well-known documented cases.”

“What causes it?” Nancy was not a big believer of things that couldn’t be explained.

“Don’t know. A lot of theories out there about it though. Maybe a sudden burst of radiation, or unseen electrical charges in the air. Some believe a large amount of alcohol in the system can cause it.” He took a bite of sandwich and walked toward the one other room in the building, his office.

“Barry Chatsworth and Teresa Myers.” Nancy read their names from the report. “How were they identified?”

“Ids in the room and dental records. Their teeth were still intact. Miss Myers Mother came yesterday and took the body back to Florida. Haven’t been able to locate any family for Chatsworth. He was one of the rafting guides. He listed no family on his job application for emergency numbers.”

Kenny stood up, gave a tug on the waist of his trousers, and picked up his hat.

“Let’s go interview Chloe.”

She followed her partner. As they passed the chiefs office he stuck his bearded face out the door.

“You two keep this thing quiet. I don’t want a bunch of reporters and paranormal investigators running amok in my town.”

“Right, chief.” Kenny answered.

Nancy nodded.

“Oh, if you need to call in, I’ll be manning the radio tonight.” The chief added as they headed out the door.

She had to double-time her steps to keep up with her partners’ long strides. His Marine background showed in the crew cut, the perfect fit of his uniform showing every muscle beneath, and his assured stride. Kenny Allgood joined the Marines right out of high school and served eight years as a MP. This was his fourth year as a policeman for Westerly. Nancy came on board two years ago. She assumed he was a no-nonsense, down-to-earth type of guy, but the direction of his investigation puzzled her.

“So, you think Chloe’s attack and the two deaths are connected?” Nancy asked when they were in the car headed down Main Street.

“Something weird is going on in this town. Two people are dead and one mutilated beyond repair. And don’t forget the kidnapping of the Beems baby. Whatever it is we have to stop it.”

Nancy didn’t know how to respond to that.



They eased around the crescent shaped drive that fronted the white plantation style mansion and parked. They climbed the wooden steps that led to a wide porch skirting the length of the house. Every window displayed closed blilnds and the eerie quietness was unsettling.

Kenny pushed the doorbell and the first stanza of “Dixie” chimed from within.

No response. He pushed again. The curtain on one of the double glass doors fluttered as it was pushed back to reveal the cheek and eye of Chloe.

“What do you want?” Chloe’s strained broken voice was muffled.

“Let us in Chloe. We just want to talk. Nothing official. Just between us.”

Several moments passed before the lock clicked and the door opened slowly.

They followed Chloe into a front room decorated Victorian style with tiffany lamps, Queen Anne blue flowered damask-cover davenports and chairs.

She wasn’t dressed in her usual skintight revealing clothes but wore a gray sweat suit instead. She fidgeted with trembling fingers the blue opaque scarf draped over her head, down her cheek and around her neck, trying to hide the bright scarlet scars left by the attack.

She indicated for them to sit with a wave of her hand and tugged on the scarf once again before seating herself.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything to offer you.”

“We’re fine Chloe. Tell us what happened. Like I said, it will go no further than this room.”

Chloe eyes closed and she sighed. She opened them and looked from Nancy to Kenny. She shook her head and looked at her hands lying in her lap.

“You won’t believe me” She gave a harsh chuckle. “Hell, I don’t even believe it and I was there.”

The officers remained silent not wanting to disturb her willingness to divulge that horrible night.

She sighed again and related what had happened.

Chloe had gotten up to use the bathroom after being disturbed from her sleep by her brother getting ready for work. He was always noisy, whistling, knocking things around. After finishing the call of nature she looked in the mirror as she always did when there was a mirror around. She felt her hair move slightly as if blown by a sudden draft. She whirled around. The bathroom door was closed. No one was there. When she turned back to the mirror a hand grabbed the back of her head and smashed her face into the glass. Even while her face was being torn she noticed from the mirror there was no one behind her. The power was enormous; she couldn’t move her body away from the sink. Something was pressing against her backside pinning her to the sink. She managed to push her head back a few inches away from the mirror. Terror had her heart racing, her palms sweating against the sink, feeling as though the air was being sucked right out of her lungs. She screamed just as her face was smashed against the jagged broken glass again and again. She didn’t remember any pain until afterwards when her head was finally released and she slumped on the floor when her brother came rushing in..

She finished her story and pulled her scarf even closer around her face.

“I will be leaving town Monday. Going to New York. The doctors say several surgeries will be required and they can’t even guarantee any kind of success.” She spoke softly, and matter-of-factly, as though she had not just finished recounting a strange and horrifying story.

“Can you show us the bathroom?” Kenny stood.

Chloe looked up, eyes wide in fear and face drained of blood. She shook her head.

“I will not set foot in that bathroom ever again.”

“You don’t have to go in, just show us where it is.”

All three stood in the upstairs hallway staring at the closed door. Chloe started backing off.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me. But I will not go in there.” She turned, scurried down the hall and out of sight.

Kenny turned the knob and they both walked in.

Everything had been cleaned up and the double doors of the mirrored medicine cabinet above the sink had been replaced. Below the medicine cabinet was an old-fashioned pedestal sink with gold plumbing. An oval claw-foot bathtub stood in one alcove to their right and the toilet was behind a door to their left. Could someone have been hiding in there when Chloe came in? But then Keith and Chloe’s stories insisted no one was here.

“You are about the same height as Chloe. Stand in front of the sink.” Kenny instructed Nancy.

Nancy positioned herself and looked at her reflection. She could see the door and part of the bathtub in the mirror. Nancy leaned forward and placed her face against the mirror. She had to stand on tiptoes and brace herself with her hands on the sink. She stood back and spoke to Kenny.

“There’s no way she could have done this to herself.”

“I know.”

They walked downstairs and met Chloe in the foyer.

Chloe walked them to the door and spoke through the slit of the almost closed door.

“You should talk to Mary Lee. I hear she is back home from the hospital.”

The door closed.

"Who's Mary Lee?" Nancy asked as they walked to the patrol car.

"The girl that caused quite a commotion, claiming a cat changed into a woman at the Bungalow where that writer is staying." He glanced at his watch. "It's time for our shift at the festival."



Rachel sat at a hot dog vendor’s table fanning herself with a dated green accordion fan. Things were going very well at the festival, except for that writer woman. Rachel was nervous and when she was nervous, she got scared. The incident with the Lee girl kept going through her mind. She looked up at the sky and figured about one more hour until sunset then she could go home. Her husband was a devout Baptist preacher and avoided celebrations of this sort. He tried to convince her not to get involved every year, but Rachel was very persistent, thinking of her own prestige in the community and not her husbands.

Crowds of people continued to walk by with different paraphernalia from the festival. She heard children laughing, babies crying, irritated parents speaking harshly to their children. She turned her face toward the sun and closed her eyes thinking what she could do about that writer woman. She didn’t like her at all.

“Mrs. Lassiter?”

Rachel looked up and saw a woman police officer standing in front of her. Tall, slender, with raven-black hair tied up in a ponytail and wearing a black baseball-type hat with white letters WPD stitched on the front. With her olive skin, full lips and wide set brown eyes she had a slight Eurasian look to her.

“Yes, officer…?”

“Williams, ma’am.” Nancy positioned herself on the seat next to Rachel.

Rachel fanned herself, gazing at the crowd.

“What can I do for you officer Williams?”

“I understand you were with Anna and Mary Lee the night Mary was taken to the hospital.”

“No, not that night, I was there that morning.” Rachel continued to fan herself, even though it was the end of September the days were still hot.

“What happened?”

Rachel stopped in mid-fan and turned her head to look at the police officer.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what happened that morning when you were there.”

Rachel turned her gaze toward the crowd again and thought for a moment before speaking.

“You mean when Mary came home hysterical after snooping around that writers Bungalow?”

“Yes.”

Rachel’s small, quick smile was not missed by Nancy. Rachel rested the fan in her lap and still looking into the crowd spoke in a calculated tone.

“She claimed the writers cat changed into a woman then back again. She was really shaken up. But then you know how children’s imaginations can run away with them. Especially Mary’s.”

“Why especially Mary’s?”

“You know Mary’s father committed suicide a couple of years ago.”

Nancy nodded. She remembered the headlines. Bank embezzler commits suicide.

“Well, since that dreadful day she has been driving her Mother crazy with fanciful stories of her Father coming to her and taking her fishing, swimming, hiking and even playing games with her in her room at night.” Rachel turned to Nancy with chagrin. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t be gossiping about other people, it’s a sin, as my husband continues to tell me.” She flipped open her fan and started fanning herself, essentially ending the conversation.

Nancy stood up.

“Thank you, Mrs. Lassiter.”

“You’re welcome, officer Williams.”

Nancy walked away with a nagging thought. Mrs. Lassiter never asked her why she was inquiring about the Mary Lee incident.

She found her partner leaning against a wooden fence railing that surrounded a pony ride. He was eating a funnel cake with his fingers. Two ponies were slowly being led around in a circle. One carried a whimpering little girl begging to be let off and the other held a boy about 8 or 9 flipping the reins and yelling ‘giddy up’.

Kenny offered her the paper plate as he stuffed a piece of funnel cake in his mouth.

“Want some?”

“No thanks. I think we should check Mrs. Lassiters background.”

He threw the almost empty plate in a trashcan next to him and brushed his powdered sugar hands together. He made no comment on her statement. He had come to trust his partners’ intuition.

“What did you find out?”

“Mary Lee was snooping around Margo’s bungalow and claims to have seen a cat change into a woman then back again. Something you already knew."

As Nancy looked at his unreadable face, his only comment was a short “Hm.”

The rest of the night was fairly quiet except for a group of out-of-town teenagers who had managed to acquire some beer and tried to pick a fight with some of the local teens. They were promptly carted off to jail and their parents notified.

After the teens were placed into their parents’ custody, Kenny called his partner to his desk to look at something on the computer screen.

"Rachel Lassiter was Rachel Pierce before she married the good reverand. And there is nothing on a Rachel Pierce before 1993. That’s when she showed up in Westerly.” Kenny stared at the screen as he spoke.

“Let me try something else.”

Nancy watched as he downloaded a picture of Rachel and started running it though the facial recognition database.

“If she has ever been arrested there should be a match. I have a friend in the FBI who lets me have access to their facial recognition database.”

After 10 minutes ‘No Match Found’ flashed in red across the screen.

Kenny leaned back in his chair.

“Very strange, no social security number, no employment records, no credit card or bank records, nothing before 1993.”

“An alias maybe?” Nancy chimed in.

“Then her photograph should have pulled up something.”

Kenny rubbed his short-cropped hair; a habit Nancy noticed when he was perplexed about something.

The chief emerged from his office with a jacket slung over one arm. He looked at his watch on the other arm.

“You two need to go home. You have another 12-hour shift tomorrow.”

The chief met the other two officers coming in for their shift as he was preparing to leave.

“About time you guys got here.” He said grumpily as he exited the door.

Brian looked at his watch.

“We’re right on time. What’s his problem?”

“Sheila is on vacation. He hates being on dispatch.”

Keith came around to look at Kenny’s computer screen, and his eyebrows rose in question when he saw the picture of Rachel Lassiter staring back at him. Kenny switched it off and distracted Keith with a question about his sister.

“How’s Chloe doing?”

Keith walked to his own desk and threw his jacket on a chair.

“As well as can be expected.”

“Where’s Jeff?” Brian asked from the other corner where his desk was situated.

Jeff was the daytime dispatcher

“Don’t worry, he’ll be here, he is always late.” Keith said matter-of-factly.

Kenny and Nancy left the station in the capable hands of Keith and Brian. They were both more than ready for a good long sleep.



Another festival day and the twelve-hour shifts were taking its toll on Nancy. It was one-thirty am and they had just finished directing the last car out of the open field that had been used as a temporary parking lot for the festival.

Sitting beside her partner in the car she yawned. The radio squawked.

“Calling car 54, come in.” They heard chuckling from the radio. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

Jeff was also an old television show connoisseur. Kenny grabbed the radio.

“Jeff, where’s the chief?”

“His son fell out of a bunk bed and broke his arm. They are at the emergency room now. He called and asked me to do a split shift. But the good news is its Sunday, I can sleep all day today.”

“Is it just conversation you want or did you have something to tell us?”

“Oh yeah, I just received a call from Glory rafting. A bunch of screaming was reported coming from the Spaniard bungalow.”

A pause as Nancy and Kenny contemplated this turn of events, both sensing something ominous in the air.

“Hello? You still there? You going to check it out?”

“Yeah and Jeff, stay on the radio. Don’t even go to the bathroom. And call Brian and Keith to be on the alert. We may need back-up.”

There was a pause on Jeff’s end now.

“You mean wake them up?” Incredulous confusion infused his voice.

“I mean wake them up. Over and out.”

“Wait, the people that called it in are staying in the French bungalow.”

Kenny put the car in gear and squealed the tires. They raced toward Glory Rafting without turning on the lights or sirens.



Kenny drove the car slowly into the now empty parking lot and turned down the narrow dirt road toward the Spaniard Bungalow. They almost missed the couple waving them down in front of the French Bungalow.

A young man with mussed red hair approached the car wearing nothing but pajama pants. The young woman remained standing on the porch. She looked nervous, hugging her filmy white robe tightly around her with hands fisted across her chest.

Kenny rolled his window down and the man bent, immediately talking about what he and his wife had heard.

“Everything is quiet now, but a few minutes ago it sounded like someone was being murdered. There was screaming and crashing, and bumping around. And the lights were going on and off. Then nothing.”

“All right. Did you hear any gunfire?” Kenny asked

“No. Just all hell breaking loose, like a huge bar fight.”

“Ok, You and your wife go back inside, lock your doors and don’t let anyone in except the police. We’ll get back to you as soon as possible for a statement.”

Kenny watched as the man walked back to his wife, draped his arm over her shoulder and led her inside.

Satisfied they were safe for the moment Kenny continued toward the Spaniard Bungalow.

He slowly pulled the cruiser beside the silver BMW and turned off the engine. All was quiet, too quiet. Not a sound was coming from the darkened Bungalow and the door was wide open.

Kenny exited the car, unhooked his gun from one hip and his flashlight from the other. Nancy did the same.

Meeting at the front of the cruiser, Nancy whispered.

“Shouldn’t we call for back-up?”

“Not yet. Stay alert.”

They slowly approached the veranda, guns pointed and their flashlight illuminating all corners. Positioning themselves each on opposite sides of the open door, Kenny nodded to Nancy indicating he would go first. He jumped in, gun and flashlight pointing with Nancy right behind. Quickly scanning the room, they were amazed at the amount of disarray. Chairs, tables and lamps were overturned. Papers were strewn all over the floor. Pictures and wall hangings had been ripped off the walls. They cautiously scanned the two bedrooms to find a similar mess. Finally they approached the back veranda. After ascertaining no one was about, they looked at the scattered bent iron tables and chairs. The cushions had been gutted leaving white batting strewn everywhere.

Kenny picked up a wrought iron chair. The back had been completely bent backwards to the legs.

The table was a v-shape as though an unspeakable hand had karate-chopped it down the middle.

“Damn.” Kenny whispered in wonder.

“What could have done this?” Nancy asked, not really expecting an answer.

He bent, threw a beam from his flashlight on the V part of the table and touched it.

“It’s warm.”

“Well, it was pretty hot today.” Nancy said as she bent to touch it also and felt the warmth.

“Here”, he ran his hand toward the outside, “But not here.”

A bright light flashed from the woods as though someone had taken a picture. Their heads jerked toward the flash at the same time. They watched for a few moments but another flash never came.

“That came from behind the Beems place.” He turned and started walking out of the Bungalow.

Once in the car Kenny turned to Nancy.

“Now we call for back-up. Tell Brian and Keith to meet us behind the Beems cabin. No lights, no sirens. Approach with caution.”

Nancy picked up the radio and relayed the message as Kenny drove toward the Beems cabin. He knew all the back roads and cut through the woods behind the bungalow. After a few moments of bone jarring bumps and eerie scraping sounds from bushes and brambles he turned onto a small heavily bushed two-rutted logging road.

Another bright flash lit up the woods, enough to momentarily light up the woods in front of them, followed by a blue transparent glow that remained, rising from the woods over the treetops.

He drove a little further down an incline both keeping their eyes on the bits and pieces of blue glow filtering through the tree branches in front of them. He stopped the car and picked up the radio.

“Keith.”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you?”

“I can see the Beems cabin now.”

“Park the car. Behind their cabin is a hill. Walk the rest of the way. We’ll meet you at the bottom on the other side.”

“What the hell is going on, Ken? We just saw a gigantic flash of light, now this blue light coming over the ridge. What is it? Aliens or something?” He gave a small snort of nervous laughter.

“Yeah, something.”

“All right, see you in a few.”



Nancy shivered in the foggy dark chill. She wished she had thought to grab her jacket from the squad car.

She gazed at the blue half circle above the trees and wondered what was taking Keith and Brian so long.

A rustling of footsteps and thrashing through bushes behind them caught their attention. Keith. Brian and Jeremy Beems emerged from the woods. Jeremy had his shotgun.

“Jeremy, go back home.” Kenny looked agitated.

“My baby was kidnapped. If…” he pointed his shotgun toward the blue glow, “that has something to do with it, I want to be there.”

“All right, but stay out of our way.”

The fivesome walked slowly and laboriously toward the light. They had no need of their flashlights. The blue light became brighter the closer they got, bright enough to light their way.

Kenny stopped, and indicated silently for all to hunch down. Directly in front of them was the clearing Jeremy had so adamantly swore was there. They were close enough that the red glow from the bonfire and the blue glow cast wavering orange light and blue shadows on their faces. Margo, Sylvia Knight, a white haired man that could have been sylvia's twin and Anna Lee and her daughter Mary were engulfed in the blue ball on one side of the fire, While Rachel and five cloaked, hooded figures stood on the other side.

"Is that Mary Lee?" Nancy whispered to her partner.

He nodded.

"Look at her. and whats that behind her?"

They both took in her blank expression and the dark shadowy figure of a man standing close behind her. Not really a man, just a shadow.

Margo spoke to Rachel.

"Imagine your suprise when you came to Westerly to hide from the council only to find a warlock in your midst and you couldn't leave well enough alone could you?"

The shadow behind Mary Lee undulated.

Margo continued.

"But he didn't know about you. Your spell caught him off guard. You can't destroy a warlock so you put him in the Shadow World where he has no powers. But all that is going to change once we deliver you to the council. Mary will have her father back. It's very sad that the two young people you killed can't have their lives back. Why did you do that? And why the attack on Chloe?"

Rachels' flaming red hair fanned around her head in disarray, a look of madness on her face.

“I didn't like them" She answered simply, conveying her true evil. "You know, Margo, witchcarft is just not what it used to be. We are a dying breed. Getting old and dying. I want to stay young. And to stay young human sacrfices have to be made, preferably babies, but I sort of screwed that up. So I settled for that distasteful, rude young man at the Rafting Club."

Jeremy gasped from his hiding place beside Kenny.

“The council has made its decision. You broke the number one rule, Hesperia, the harming of humans is strictly forbidden.” Margo spoke from within the blue ball.

Rachel put her hands on her hips and paced a few steps, smiling nochanlantly.

"And you think your little band of shape-shifters can handle me?"

“If you come back with me willingly, the council may show some leniency.” Margo tried reasoning.

Rachels contenence changed suddenly. Her face became dark and angry.

“Never!” She screamed and raised her arms above her head. A dark cloud immediately formed between her upraised hands and shot a stream of black lightening at the blue light. When the black bolt hit the blue ball it sizzled and crackled, spreading around the outside like electricity, quickly dissipating the blue light.

The hooded figures shrank back, looking around as if trying to find a place to run. One threw the hood back to reveal a young blonde haired man.

“I’m outta here.”  He ran toward the woods and Brian and Keith maneuvered to intercept quietly and quickly. Soon the others followed until all five were apprehended without commotion. While Brain and Keith were busy handcuffing them around a tree Kenny, Nancy, and Jeremy watched from behind the so far concealed hiding place.

Rachel threw another black bolt at Margo. Margo raised her hand and released a white lengthening bolt. The two bolts crashed together thundering each other into nonexistence. Rachel swirled her arms in the air and a strong gale force wind whipped the flames of the bonfire into the air. Individual pieces of flames disconnected from the fire and shot toward Margo and her entourage, singeing the two white-haired twins. Their yelps sounded like cats screaming.

The wind was strong enough to blow Kenny and Nancy’s hats off. Her ponytail had come undone and her hair was whipping around her face. She felt as though she couldn’t breathe, like she was in the throes of a tornado.

Margo raised her arms to the sky. An immediate thunderstorm was invoked, dousing the dancing flames.

A small hurricane went on in the clearing. Nancy looked behind her to stare in awe at the stillness just a few feet into the woods.

Drenched, with her blue dress whipping around her legs, Mary stepped forward with trance-like determination.

Placing her arms across her chest in burial fashion, she closed her eyes. Rachel was stunned with fear.

“Noooooo. I won’t let you do this to me!”

Before Rachel could raise her arms for another catastrophe, a bright flash shot from Mary’s body and slammed against Rachel. She staggered and tried to raise her arms again. Three quick bursts of flashes hit Rachel, throwing her back with each blow until she went to her knees. The wind and rain had stopped.

Rachel was sobbing now and shaking her bent head.

“No, no, no.”

One last flash was so bright the still hidden officers instinctively shut their eyes and never saw what happened to Rachel. She was gone when they opened their eyes. Only her clothes were left in a heap where she had been kneeling just seconds before. They all raised up from the hiding places and looked around in confusion.

“Damn.” Jeremy whispered in confused awe.

All three could only stare. The clearing, bonfire and everyone had disappeared. Nothing was left but the chirping of crickets and occasional twittering of birds.

Brain and Keith walked up behind them.

“What the hell?”

Kenny turned on his flashlight and scanned all around. Not even an ember or wet piece of ground to show what had happened.

“Keith, call the state patrol and get assistance with those people we caught. They are still there aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they are just as scared and confused as we are.”



Nancy and Kenny found the Spaniard Bungalow empty and neat as a pin. No indication of the previous turmoil they had seen. Anna and Mary Lee were also nowhere to be found. Several days later Margo Lightfoot and her assistant were reported missing by her publisher. Rachel was reported missing by her husband.

After several months these cases and the cases of the kidnapping, the two deaths, and the attack on Chloe went cold. Nancy and the other officers told the chief what had happened that night and he advised them to write up the report exactly the way it happened and hope that Westerly won't became a story in the National Enquirer.

Westerly went back to being a summer tourist location and a sleepy winter town.

Kenny made Lieutenant and Nancy made sergeant in the Westerly police force and never spoke of the “incident” again. Rumors and innuendos about a witch’s cult in Westerly were all that remained. Brian moved to Indiana and joined the state patrol. Keith moved to New York City and stayed with his sister, never to return to Westerly. And the Chief was still the Chief.















Copyrighted by Ingrid Wooten, October 31, 2007