The Witch's Key by Dana Donovan

and pay their new GI
mortgages.
    “So, I did the only thing I could do. I left Anthony
with an orphanage and I headed out to find Gypsy. I thought that
maybe if I could locate her and tell her what a wonderful son she
had, that maybe….”
    He trailed off with that thought still unfinished. I
could see how weak and tired he had become just from those few
minutes of talking. For that, and for consideration of my own newly
confounded emotions, I decided to call it a day. I hit the call
button beside his bed and waited for India to come up. By the time
she got there, Pops had fallen asleep. I told India that I had
enjoyed my visit, and that I hoped she would welcome me back
soon.
    “Of course,” she said. “Just so long as Mister
Marcella doesn’t mind.”
    “No, I don’t believe he will,” I told her, and the
thought of me returning seemed to please her.
    She walked me to the elevator and escorted me back to
the lobby. At the front door, she stopped and clutched my arm
lightly. “Are you all right, Mister Spitelli?”
    I looked at her, puzzled. “Sure. Why do you ask?”
    She reached up and brushed my cheek with the back of
her hand. “Because, you look as though you’ve been crying.”
    I stopped her hand in mid-stroke and pulled it away.
“Don’t be silly,” I said, and I let it go at that.
     
     
     
     
Eight
     
    I could smell Lilith’s witch’s brew cooking up on the
stove even before I came through the door. It smelled like a cross
between old shoe leather and scorched electrical wiring. If not for
the smiley face on her note the night before, I might have thought
she was mixing up her own special blend of exploding rat poison. I
called to her from the living room to announce my return, and she
answered by inviting me back into the kitchen.
    “I need to shower,” I said, heading for the bath. I
should have known that would not work.
    “No. Come here first. I want you to try
something.”
    I crept into the kitchen, feeling suddenly very
nervous. My police instincts told me to draw my weapon, but of
course I didn’t, and not just because I didn’t own a gun anymore….
Well, okay, that is why, but now I’m glad I didn’t. Lilith stood
with her back to me, stirring intently as I approached. When I
looked over her shoulder into the pot, I saw a swirling pool of
black ink and a lumpy mass like river sludge and seaweed. I must
have made a retching sound without realizing it, because Lilith
jumped back, stepping on my foot, causing me to scream like someone
had knifed me in the belly. My scream made her scream, which made
her hand jerk in reflex. The wooden spoon she used to stir her brew
flipped out of the pot, splashing a wave of black ganja on the wall
behind the stove.
    “What are you doing?” she barked. “You scared the
bjesus out of me.”
    I stepped back to gain a healthy distance. “What am I
doing? I’m trying to keep you from poisoning me.”
    She blinked at me with only half a smirk. “What are
you talking about?”
    “That!” I said, pointing. “I hope you don’t expect me
to drink that.”
    I swear, I hate the face she made after that. It’s
one of Lilith’s best: the one she flashes whenever I say or do
something stupid, which, incidentally, I seem to do a lot around
her. “Are you serious?” she said, and she dipped her big wooden
spoon into the ink and propped the bulk of the lumpy mass out of
the brew. “This?” I leaned in for a closer look. “These are my
jeans.”
    “Your jeans?”
    She let the wad tumble back into the pot. “Yes! I’m
dying them black because I got axle grease all over them. What did
you think it was?”
    I shrugged. “I don’t know, some wacky brew you found
on Witchit, maybe.”
    That made her laugh. “And you thought I wanted you to
drink it?”
    “No! I turned and started into the living room.
“Forget it. I have to shower. I’m going out with Carlos
tonight.”
    “Really?” As I passed through the living room and
down the hall,