‘Sabrina Granger’ wasn’t an act. She really was the Witch of Ashcroft, the one who performed ceremonies and saved lives and helped ghosts to pass on. But that ‘teenage witch’ persona that she had worn almost daily since she was fifteen was still a nom de guerre. It was the real her, but it was also a mask she wore to protect those she cared about. It was her Batman.

Dr. Fatima Khan, Ph.D. drove to the part of town that put the suburb from the hours before to shame. Here the houses were often recessed behind hedges or personal gates, or surrounded by trees. She parked on the curb at the house Sabrina had directed her to. It was the one with a pink, blue, and white wooden gate. The words PROTECT TRANS KIDS had been painted along it. It seemed to stand defiant against the BELMONT FOR MAYOR sign in the yard on the other side of the street. That one had been spray painted with a circle A, because even here wasn’t too far from the beating and chaotic heart of the city.

The woman who got out of Fatima’s passenger side door was not Batman. She was Bruce Wayne. She was that same tall, well built woman that Sabrina couldn’t hide, but she was well dressed as well. Gone was the handstitched costume and the esoteric jewelry. She wore off the rack style, looking at home in a department store catalogue. The one concession to strange jewelry was a delicate silver pendant depicting snake wrapped around a cross, a winged crown on top. Every aspect of the wardrobe was brand new and pristine, save for that beloved pendant and a loose pink scarf that was well worn, with some discoloration near the middle. But even that was hanging in a loose loop that seemed chosen with intent. 

She’d even had a real shower, courtesy of Fatima’s apartment.

Sabrina accepted Fatima’s help out of the car, and used a simple black mobility cane. More subtle than a broom.

“It’s a lot brighter without a hat,” Sabrina muttered, blinking at the light through the trees. She took the pair of sunglasses from where they hung at the crook of her shirt, and slipped them on. “I’m not used to this.”

“Are you going to be okay?” the older woman asked.

She was a contrast to Sabrina, but matched her. Not as tall, nor as muscular. She was dressed well, but in a light blue business suit and matching hijab. Her skin was darker, and her nails were actually maintained where Sabrina’s guise broke down there. Fatima still had her ID badge for the Wainright Institute of Natural History clipped to the fake pocket of her pants. Sabrina had caught her on the way to work.

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Sabrina said with a smile that was half as confident as she wanted it to be. She stomped the cane. “I still remember how to use this.”

“I meant with meeting your family,” Fatima corrected.

“Oh.” Sabrina looked to the wooden gate. “I try to come by once every few months. Usually it’s different circumstances.”

“Very well,” Fatima said, and went to stand by the gate. “Should you go first or should I?”

“Meet me down at the door,” Sabrina said brushing it off with a slight wave of her hand. “I’ll take my time.”

Fatima nodded, and opened the gate. The Cunningham house was large and impressive, a Tudor style home tucked into the hills. There were rose bushes that separated the front from the back, and a little break in them featured a stairway that lead down to the lower level in the back. The uneven ground meant there was a stairway down to the pit of the front yard, and then another two small fights raising up to the front door.

Fatima walked the stairs with ease, and admired the yard. It was cozy, with a little patio table out on a covered concrete red brick. There were flowers growing around the outside of the house, though Sabrina knew they weren’t as vibrant and thriving as they’d been before. Charity was getting older. That stung.

Sabrina had more trouble with the stairs. She would be fine, but the home had never been very ADA compliant. Nathanial Cunningham had built the house himself a century ago for his wife. They’d been hail and hearty at the time. Maybe if she hadn’t had such a busy night, she could handle it better. But she’d take her time. Then again, maybe it wasn’t her leg that was making her go slow.

“What do you think?” She asked, voice quiet. It was likely the Cunninghams had heard them by now, but she still didn’t want to cause a ruckus.

“This house is beautiful,” she said back just as soft. “This’s where you grew up?”

Sabrina joined her over in the gazebo, admiring it herself. She sat down on the bench along the wall. “Only for a few years.”

“You were adopted,” Fatima asked, with a moment of hesitation. “Weren’t you?”

Sabrina laughed, rubbing at her thigh. “Not a secret. My parents died in the same accident that killed me the first time.”

“I’m still uncertain how much we keep secret about ourselves,” Fatima said sitting on the bench across from Sabrina. She looked her over. “Are you stalling?”

“There’s a chicken coop down in the back yard,” Sabrina dodged with all the grace of a supermarket trolley with a stuck wheel. “Bet Amy would get a kick out of that, right? Tiny little dinosaurs.”

Fatima’s ghost came into view like heat shimmer. The blue and green scales of a Cretaceous predator poked it’s head into the gazebo, not concerned about little things like ‘the solidity of the support pillars’. She did seem to find the idea of ‘tiny little dinosaurs’ appealing.

Fatima scratched Amy’s chin and the t. rex warbled. Her smile was compassionate, but her look still pressed at Sabrina. “That would be a yes, then.”

Sabrina avoided her eyes. She rapped her knuckles on the bench she was sitting on. “Sis and I helped John build this gazebo.”

“Do you need some time?”

Sabrina took a breath and sighed. She leaned back and put her head against the wall. She felt something move behind her, and reached back to find a little bundle of twine. It was two strands that looked like they’d been knotted together, with both ends of each strange torn off. It must have been tied around something, because there was a larger hole in the middle. Sabrina stuck her finger through and wiggled it.

Within her, Grandmother stirred. Unfortunately that stirring didn’t come with any sort of useful clarity.

Fatima stood up and stroked Amy’s head. It purred, then like a streak of fog it swirled back towards Fatima’s chest. “Would you like me to knock?”

Sabrina pocketed the knot, and held out her hand. “No, no.” Fatima helped her up. “I just need to cowgirl up.”

Fatima nodded, giving her a reassuring smile, and then waited. When Sabrina was ready, they walked the garden stone path to the front door of the house. Sabrina stood on the porch, door open, about to knock, when she almost knocked on the face of a little old man in black.

“Oh!” the man said with a start. His collar was starched. Sabrina didn’t recognize him at first, since she’d last seen him about fifteen years ago. He recognized her, and the way he was so happy to see her was like a knife twist. “Is that you, Sabrina? We were worrying about you.”

“Hey, padre,” she said, trying to ignore that guilt. “I’m fine. Just came by to see what the blood was on about.” Sabrina was glad for the darkened lenses. “Not every day you get deadnamed by a wall.”

The man brought her in for a hug. “I’m so glad that you’re safe!” he pulled back, and smiled up at her again. He was about to say something else when he was interrupted by someone coming up the stairs.

“Rina!” the woman cried out, and it was lucky the priest moved out of the way. She wrapped Sabrina up and picked her off her feet, spun her in the foyer, and put her back down. She was as well built as Sabrina was, and there was a soft pop as her enthusiasm loosened Sabrina’s spine.

“Hey, Sis!” Sabrina said, looking Grace over. She was shorter, but looked good. She had a flannel shirt over a simple tee, with the outer shirt loose and tied at the waist. Her jeans were cut off. Grace was a blacksmith, and it showed. Her arms were jacked, and she gave Sabrina a run for her money. Her blonde hair was in the same kind of crown braid Sabrina had seen at the renaissance festival, though it was coming loose.

Fatima picked Sabrina’s cane up from where it fell and passed it back to her.

“So who’d you kill,” Grace teased, smile on her face. “Someone’s blaming you.”

“Do you have any idea how little that narrows it down?”

The priest cleared his throat.

“Sorry, gallows humor.” Sabrina explained. Then she stepped back from the door. “Fatima, this is Grace Cunningham, my big sister. She taught me everything I know about being a woman, which is why I suck at it. Ack!” That last bit had been caused by Grace slapping her in the arm. “She’s moderately famous as a blacksmith, has a YouVue channel and everything.”

“Ah, I thought you looked familiar,” Fatima said, offering her hand. Grace shook it, grip confident and firm. “I have a friend who will be very jealous.”

“And Grace, this is Doctor Fatima Khan, Ph.D. She works with dinosaurs.”

“Ooh, exciting!”

“It has it’s moments,” Fatima replied. Amy tried to look over her shoulder at that, and Fatima was in the unenviable position of ignoring the nearly five meter tall ghost as it stuck it’s head through the door and wall to look at Grace.

“Oh, and this is Father Andrews,” Sabrina said after a moment. She gestured from each to the other. “Father, Fatima. Fatima, Father.”

Fatima shook the priest’s hand. It was rather difficult with Amy in the way. The ghost was solid to Fatima and only Fatima. Amy was starting to be trained, and understood enough to make herself scarce again. She tended to dislike being indoors.

“It was lovely to meet you,” Father Andrews said, inclining his head to Fatima and shaking her hand much more gentle than Grace had. “I hope Sabrina here has been treating you well. But I really must be off.” He pat her on the arm and then made his way down, then back up, the stairs.

Sabrina covered up a laugh and choked.

Fatima didn’t show it well, but she was blushing. She looked back after the priest.

“Come on, the rest of the family will want to meet you,” Grace said, ushering Fatima into the house.

Sabrina just let herself chuckle and closed the door, following along.

The Cunningham house interior was a well lived in place. For just over a hundred years, the family had lived in this home. There were portraits framed on the walls, all of a family with blond and light brown hair. And one little black haired teenager who started as a sullen, pizza faced boy and grew into a beautiful and confident young woman. The woman appeared only sporadically in photos.

Seeing how far she’d come was humbling to Sabrina.

She noticed the cross on the stairway and gave it an oblique smile. “What the heck,” she muttered, and tapped her forehead, chest, and shoulders with her right hand. “There you go, Yaldabaoth.”

Sabrina smiled again as she saw a certificate stating that Daryl Friedman hadn’t had a haircut until he was three. It stood out as Jewish, amongst an Episcopal house. One of only a handful of little relics saved from a different life, with a different family.

“Shame Lilith didn’t get me. Would’a been fun.” She licked her thumb, and cleaned a smudge off the glass.

Something flickered in the reflection, and Sabrina turned around, Witch’s Staff in hand. The smoldering little waves of ember dancing across the haft and bristles of the broom reflected off the photo glass. There was nothing. She knew better than to assume it was just nerves, and narrowed her eyes, scanning the room one more time. She used the broom’s tip to lift the cane back up, thankful that a quiet fall on the carpet hadn’t alerted anyone.

Sabrina knew better than to assume it was her imagination, but there was nothing here now. She looked to her phantom. Grandmother peered around the corners, looking into the other rooms, but flicked her head in the negative. Nix.

Sabrina sighed and let the broom fall away so she could use the mobility aid. Girl and ghost both headed downstairs. No sense getting jumpy.

The assemblage of family members was sitting in the downstairs family room.

It might have at one point been a kitchen. There was a wood burning oven and a sink that was just a little too far away from it to be convenient. The room was two parts connected, but the sitting area that looked out onto the garden and had the stove was empty, the chairs pulled into the main area, around the couch and coffee table.

Sabrina let Fatima talk and went around the stairs to a little dorm fridge and got out two cans of lemonade tea. She seemed to be talking about Caleb’s big monitor. A grey thing hanging on his chest and flicking out its forked tongue.

Caleb was the youngest, and was now in that phase where he was emotional and dark. His hair was blue now, and in an androgynous pixie cut. His fingernails were painted, and just like Sabrina’s they were chipped. He stood out in the house, even beyond Lilith—named after the other one—crawling up his shoulder. Sabrina knew what that was like, but he wasn’t the orphan, so his life might be better.

Sabrina reached over to him with a fist and he reached up and bumped their knuckles together.

John and Charity were the parents. They were both old now. They’d been in their early twenties when they had Grace, and barely older than Sabrina was now when they’d taken in a problematic orphan who had already been through several homes. Sabrina didn’t interrupt Fatima and leaned down to give each of them a hug.

“Hey,” she said quiet as to not disturb the lesson. “Sorry, stairs are a bit rough today.” She and Charity kissed each other on both cheeks.

“It’s not a problem, dear,” the mom replied back.

“It’s good to see you,” John said, giving her a squeeze. “Hopefully this is all just a misunderstanding.”

Yeah. Hopefully. Sabrina just nodded, and went to sit on the couch. It was still warm where Grace had been there, but she chose to sit on the armrest of John’s wing back chair. Always looking out for little sis. Back in school she’d even punched a kid once or twice for saying something rude about Sabrina. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t handle herself; Grandmother had already imparted her with knowledge and talent. But it was nice to have someone willing to fight for her.

Through the window that lead to the back yard, Sabrina could see Amy. As Sabrina had suggested, the t. rex was excited to see the little dinosaurs that lived in the large mesh wire box and the little coop. She sniffed at them and watched the chicks.

“I see Fatima is already charming you.” That drew an embarrassed smile from the doctor, and Sabrina handed her a drink.

“Oh, yes,” the grey haired matriarch said with a glimmer of excitement. “It’s so nice that you found someone so lovely, and I love her accent. Isn’t Cambridge one of those fancy schools?”

“Yes,” Fatima started, “About that…”

Sabrina laughed a little, and put her hand over her face. “She’s actually my apprentice, Charity.”

“Ah,” John said, a look of disappointment on his face. Queer or not, his daughter shouldn’t be alone. “Well, you’ll find someone some day.”

“Dodged a bullet, really,” Caleb said to Fatima, who covered her own mouth to hide the laughter.

Sabrina tossed the throw pillow at Caleb, who only smiled as it hit him.

“Sorry, Lilith,” Sabrina joked, seeing the lizard flinch.

Caleb gave her a kiss and stroked her head. “It’s okay, she doesn’t mean it.”

“Why is your lizard out anyway,” Sabrina asked, popping her can of tea. She took a sip, and winced, rubbing at her thigh. It was like she was being prodded for stalling. She looked over Caleb’s shoulder, to where The Wicked Witch stood.

The burned face of the woman twitched to the side and back. Das bin nicht ich. The anxious leg was all Sabrina, then.

“I couldn’t leave her in the room,” Caleb said, not nearly as worked up as the others were. “Some ghost is mad at you. So who’d you kill?”

“Caleb!” John chided.

Caleb shrugged. “It’s what the wall said.”

“It’s probably just…” Charity had misplaced parental compassion in her voice, “it’s probably a misunderstanding. Right, honey?”

Sabrina cut her eyes over to Fatima, who wasn’t going to interject. This was Sabrina’s mess to handle. But she did give a reassuring nod.

Sabrina drew in a breath and sipped her drink, well aware that the tension was rising. It isn’t like she lied, but she didn’t really tell the fam the truth, either. How could she explain to them what she was, and the kind of things she did? She kept draining the Arnold Palmer and sighed when she was finished, putting the can down on the coffee table, with everyone else’s drinks.

“So how are the twins?” Sabrina asked. She could feel Grandmother growing impatient. She couldn’t read their emotions, but the others seemed to be as well.

Grace choked back a laugh.

“Aliza and Asher are okay,” John said. “They send their love, but…”

Charity continued, “honey are you… did you do what the wall said?”

“I think the important thing to keep in mind is that whoever it was they probably deserved it.”

There was a gasp, and mom and dad both crossed themselves. Caleb’s eyes went wide and he grinned.

“You weren’t kidding earlier.” Grace gestured towards the stairs to the front door. She was somewhere between Caleb and her parents, hesitantly wading into the topic.

“I wasn’t.” Sabrina didn’t look at any of them, just Grandmother as she paced a half circle around the gathering. She would put her hand along the backs of chairs. Caleb shivered. “How much do you understand about what I do?”

“You’re like a detective or something,” Grace said.

Charity fidgeted. “I know you said ghosts were real, and you did those little rituals.”

“I thought it was exorcisms and…” John reached over to the other chair and held Charity’s hand. “Like tea leaves. Tarot.”

“If God wants you to be able to do things then it should be okay,” Charity agreed.

Sabrina gave a half chuckle. Fatima looked from her to the family. She wasn’t really in a good position having to be here for this. She quietly sipped at her can of tea. Outside in the coop the cock crowed.

“Are you like a monster hunter?” Caleb asked, far more comfortable than either of the parents, or even Grace. “Cool.”

“Sometimes.” Sabrina said with a smile. She found it easier to meet his eyes. “Sometimes the monsters are people. But, hey, some of them are already dead when I kill them.”

Another crossing from Charity. John might have done the same if his right hand wasn’t occupied.

“There’s a reason I don’t tell you everything.” Sabrina let that hang for a moment.

“We think…” Fatima did finally step in once the bandage was off, and Sabrina was grateful. “Well, we suspect that one of those bad people left behind a ghost. That ghost is now here, trying to upset Sabrina’s family. You lovely people. But we should be able to lay this entity to rest.”

Sabrina looked back up the stairs. “What did Father Andrew say?”

Caleb let out a groan before anyone else could speak. “He thinks I did it.”

“What?” Sabrina said defensively, “why?”

“Because I’m a freak.” He spat the words out. He leaned his head against Lilith.

“You’re not a freak,” Fatima interjected. She suddenly realized that all eyes were on her. Her thumbs fidgeting on the can. “You like reptiles and other strange things. You’re not a freak.”

Caleb tried not to smile. He failed. “If you’re single,” he staged whispered, “I think my sister is looking for someone.”

That got a few laughs, including from Fatima herself.

“I’m spoken for,” she said politely. “I think, at least.”

“You probably aren’t even the only kid in the congregation with blue hair,” Sabrina griped. “That’s pretty normal these days. Especially in Ashcroft.”

Caleb stroked Lilith, who was now basking in his lap. “The other kids didn’t have blood show up on their walls accusing family members of murder.”

“Okay, that is a good point,” Sabrina admitted. She turned to Grace and pointed to her empty can, “Can I get another?” Back to Caleb, “Did he outright say you did it?”

“No,” Grace said, going to the fridge. “He just beat around the bush.” She gave an underhand toss and Sabrina caught the can.

“He’s just…” Charity searched for the right word.

“He’s concerned,” John said. “He doesn’t believe in ghosts like you do.”

“I don’t just believe in them.” Sabrina closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I see them. I talk to them. I interact with them.”

“We help them pass on,” Fatima explained. “Your daughter is quite good at it.”

“At what I do I am the best,” Sabrina bowed her head with the utmost humility. “My talents are renowned far and wide.”

Caleb mouthed those words, brow furrowed. Then it clicked. “Ha!” Sabrina smirked.

Sabrina looked up across the room to where Grandmother stood. The Wicked Witch nodded her head.

“Grace, can I see your knife?” Sabrina asked, holding out a hand.

“Huh?” She had a handmade leather sheath clipped to the pocket of her Levi’s, and from it she pulled a well made knife. “Sure.”

It was a nice looking thing. Full tang, with handle of white and black. “Polished bone and carbon fiber?” Sabrina asked.

“Yeah, good eye,” Grace said, proud of her work.

“I think I saw you make that,” Fatima said, leaning over to see. “You did say you were going to keep it for yourself.”

“What did you need that for, honey?” Charity asked, none the wiser.

It was a nice little everyday knife, good for cutting ropes and scraping samples and whatever else you might need a knife for. Grace probably didn’t get much use out of it, but she had been known to go camping. The logo for AmazingGrace was visible on the blade, and the fivefold cross was carved into the handle. Both were still pristine, unworn. Sabrina knew it was as sharp as the day she made it. There wasn’t a knife that went dull around her.

Perfect for a demonstration.

Sabrina finished off the second can of tea, then put the pinky of one hand against the blade of the knife.

Before Charity or John could even say anything to stop her, the blade went right through Sabrina’s skin. She grit her teeth and pulled, pressing down with her thumb like she was paring off a slice of apple.

It hurt, but pain means you’re alive. The Wicked Witch could feel Sabrina’s pain and reveled in it, her head gently rolling on her shoulders as she breathed in.

Sabrina made sure the finger fell on the glass coffee table. It would be easier to clean.

“Fuck that’s sharp,” she said, looking at her thumb. A little wisp of plasm smoked out from it where the blade kept going. But more than that, her pinky was now translucent and shimmered with spectral light. “As I was saying,” Sabrina said, holding up her pinky. “I don’t believe. I know.”