The Seventh Witch by Shirley Damsgaard Page A

reasons. She’s hoodwinked everyone in this valley.”
    “How?”
    Great-Aunt Mary placed her crocheting in her lap. “All her worthless cousins and her uncle thinks her spells protect them…they can do anything they want and nothing will touch them,” she said without really answering my question. “Time’s a-comin’ when it’s going to fall down around their ears.”
    Again I thought of Ethan and his undercover assignment. Did Great-Aunt Mary “see” Ethan as the instrument of justice that would bring the Dorans down? Should I ask her? Could I ask her without giving Ethan away?
    “Ah,” I stammered, “I have a question—”
    Her cackle cut me off. “You’re full of questions, girl, but you won’t get any more answers from me.”
    Her smug attitude irritated me.
    “I can find out on my own, you know,” I blustered. “You have your ways and I have mine.”
    She cackled again as she gathered up her yarn. “No, you don’t. When you were a girl, maybe,” she said, shoving the yarn and pieces of Tink’s afghan in a bag lying next to her chair. “You’ve ignored your talent too long for it to be of much good.”
    I jerked forward, insulted by her remark. “You’re wrong,” I insisted.
    “I’m not,” she argued back. “I told your grandmother years ago to get a handle on you, but she ignored me. Now it’s too late. You’ll never be what you were meant to be, more’s the pity.” She rose slowly to her feet and gave me a hard look. “You’ve let the family down.”
    I shot up. “I have not—you just wait and see.” The words flew out of my mouth. “If that woman tries any of her hocus pocus on us,” I jabbed a finger at my chest, “I’ll put a stop to it.”
    She shook her head in disgust. “You’re no match for thelikes of her, even if her magick is weak. I’ll do it. I’ve been protecting this family more years than you’ve been alive.”
    “You didn’t keep the snake—”
    I cut myself off. How could I be so stupid?
    “Sharon,” I hissed, glaring at her. “She—”
    Great-Aunt Mary straightened her shoulders and met my stare with one of her own. “You just settle down.” Her eyes were blue steel. “I made a mistake…I underestimated how sneaky she is. It won’t happen again.”

Thirteen
    For the rest of the day my conversation with Great-Aunt Mary echoed in my head like an irritating song. No matter how hard I tried focusing on something else, there it was, repeating itself over and over again.
    She’s wrong, I insisted silently. Every day I feel my gift growing stronger. It’s not too late. It can’t be.
    Finally, after supper, I’d had enough. Great-Aunt Mary might have intended to protect the family, but I had a few ideas of my own. While she showed Tink how to crochet, and Abby and Aunt Dot watched yet another cop show, I excused myself and headed outside. By now it was too dark to climb the mountain. I grabbed the kerosene lantern hanging on a hook by the back door and, after lighting it, made my way across the yard to the barn. I thought I would find what I needed there. Holding the lantern high, I grasped the battered door and shoved.
    Creaking, it swung open on its rusty hinges. I stepped inside.
    A warm circle of light surrounded me, but past the bright edges, the sound of sudden scurrying came from the dark corners. Peering into the blackness, I held the lantern higher and tried to make my circle larger. I didn’t need some stray mouse running up my pant leg. Whew. I breathed a sigh of relief—not a mouse. A mother cat with three kittens watchedme cautiously from a hay bale in the corner. And right next to her—along the back wall—was an old workbench.
    Crossing to it, I dug around until I found a dusty coffee can full of six penny nails. I selected one whose point was still sharp. Next I grabbed a piece of the lath that the Aunts used for kindling. Snapping it in two, I laid half of it on the bench and walked to the center of the barn. With a sigh,