Never Burn A Witch by M. R. Sellars

Author:M. R. Sellars [Sellars, M. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense, Thriller, Horror, Mystery, Fiction, Paranormal, Occult, Police Procedural, Witchcraft, serial killer
Publisher: M. R. Sellars
Published: 2011-08-31T23:16:20+00:00

* * * * *

“How’s that arm?” Ben asked me as he guided the van onto the exit ramp from Highway 40.

“Sore,” I answered flatly. “Still throbbing a little, but it’ll be okay.”

We were both exhausted, and there was no doubt in my mind that we were operating on automatic pilot. I wasn’t entirely sure what was keeping my friend going at this point. I knew for a fact that for every ounce of energy I had lost through the painful physical manifestations of my unknown ethereal guide, Ben had expended more than double that amount in worrying about me. Personally, I felt like I could sleep for a week, and my mind was all but completely numb. How he was even managing to stay awake was beyond me.

“What about the pool water thing and all that? Are ya’ sure you don’t wanna see a doctor about it?” he pressed.

“I already did, Ben. Doctor Sanders, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, but...”

“I’ll be fine,” I interjected with a weary yawn. “Stop being such a mother hen.”

“Okay. Fine. I’m too goddammed beat to argue with ya’ about it anyway.”

“Good.”

He cautiously turned through the blinking yellow traffic signal at the intersection and continued down the salt-and-cinder-dulled asphalt strip. Streetlights cast yellowish glows at evenly spaced intervals along the roadway, forming harsh puddles of sickly light separated by thick, blue-black shadows.

“So you gonna be able to make it in the mornin’?” Ben finally asked, switching the subject to the hastily scheduled emergency meeting of the Major Case Squad, which was in reality only a few painfully short hours away.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Shit, I oughta just go on in now,” he lamented. “I’m barely gonna have enough time for my head ta’ hit the pillow as it is.”

“You should really go home,” I told him. “You need the rest as much as I do. Besides, I’m sure Allison would appreciate it.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “She sure as hell didn’t know what she was gettin’ into when she became a cop’s wife.”

“Have you heard her complain about it?” I asked.

“Nope. Not a word,” he replied. “She’s really great about that.”

“Then I would expect she probably knew what she was getting herself into. Give her a little credit, Tonto.”

“Yup. You’re right. I s’pose maybe she did.”

By now he had turned the Chevy down my street and was slowly pushing it the last few blocks toward my home. Leafless tree branches bowing under the weight of ice and snow hung low over the roadway, forming an eerie canopy. I was already starting to imagine that I could feel my bed.

“Oh, by the way,” Ben started as a thought was apparently remembered and brought to the forefront, “the Bible they found next ta’ the pool house was book-marked just like the other two. The same passage as from the Sheryl Keeven murder was highlighted. First Samuel, 15:23. Whaddaya make of that?”

“Off the top of my head, I don’t know,” I answered as he hooked the vehicle into my driveway and rolled it to a halt.

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