The Witches of Willowmere

Chapter 9

Her nightmare of the night before sprang into her mind, and she almost screamed. But even as Claire recoiled, she saw that it was only a dog—a large dog of the German shepherd type, long-muzzled and sharp-eared, with a coat as black as ink. The dog's owner was standing right there by the gate, gazing curiously in at the grounds and the dancing Wiccans. He was a young man, dressed in jeans and a light navy jacket, and there was something vaguely familiar about him. As Claire edged past him, his black dog snarled again, showing even more teeth.

"Hey!" Claire exclaimed, indignant. "Call off the Hound of the Baskervilles!"

"Calm down," the youth said in a bored, superior tone. He was tall and lean of build, with longish dark brown hair and very dark eyes under strong black brows. He had a sullen, brooding look, like a rock star or screen actor posing for a glossy photo. He was attractive in a way, she supposed—if you liked that kind of thing. "He doesn't bite."

"How was I supposed to know that?" Claire retorted. "By the way, there are leash laws around here." The black dog wasn't even wearing a collar, she saw.

"For people who can't control their animals. Rex won't do anything I won't let him do." The young man snapped his fingers, and the dog went to stand at his side. "But I know you, don't I?"

"Do you?" Claire stopped and stared.

"Yes. You're that girl from the high school, the one who's always bothering Josie. She pointed you out to me the other day. So you've joined that bunch, have you?" He jerked his thumb disparagingly at the whirling dancers.

Now she recognized him. Nick van Buren. "No, I haven't. And I don't bother Josie. It's she who won't leave me alone."

"That's not what she says." He was speaking to Claire's back now, as she had marched angrily away.

She turned around. Nick and his dog were walking a few paces behind her. She loved dogs, yet somehow this great black animal made her nervous. Its head was raised, its tall pointed ears pricked and its amber eyes baleful. "Quit following me," she snapped at its owner.

"I'm not following you. I happen to live on this street. And I don't recall seeing your name on it anywhere."

They progressed for some distance in this fashion: Claire walking ahead with a stiff back and quick, angry gait, Josie's boyfriend and his dog always several paces behind. She had to keep resisting the urge to swing around and yell at Nick. Whatever he said, it was obvious he had been spying on the Wiccans. But why?

He spoke again suddenly as they approached the huge, grey turreted house where he lived. Without turning, she could tell that he was now only a few steps behind her. His voice was pitched lower, even though there was no one else in sight. "You don't realize what you're getting involved in, Claire Norton. You don't know what's really going on here. You think magic is just a bunch of fools dancing around to bad poetry or swapping spells on the internet like recipes? There's a whole reality they know nothing about. There's more to the world, to the universe, than you or they can ever know. Only we know: my circle members and I."

Her dislike for him was increasing by the second. She was not going to turn and look at him, Claire resolved. "How nice for you," she retorted, gazing fixedly ahead. "So can you tell me the meaning of life? I think we get tested on that next semester." She jerked her thumb at the Dracula's Castle house as they passed it. "Here's where you turn off."

"I'm just trying to warn you." She sensed, suddenly, a deep and very real unhappiness under his hostility. "You're better off in your nice, safe, happy little reality. Stay away from that old woman, that wannabe witch. She's getting too close, and she'll end up dragging you and the others in with her. There'll be no going back then."