“Me either.”
Which was just plain strange. How had that been kept a secret? And why?
“What else do you know about Mrs. Noita?”
“Nothing but what Jenn told me. The woman kept to herself. There’s one in every town. She probably didn’t like people.” After parent-teacher conferences, I didn’t like people much myself, so I could relate. “I didn’t live near her, so I didn’t think much about her.”
Until she spoke to me from the great beyond.
“You and everyone else,” he muttered. “You’d think the chief had never met the woman either for all that he could tell me.”
That was bizarre. Though if Mrs. Noita stayed out of trouble, why would the police know anything? Still …
“Did you Google her?” I asked. When Bobby shook his head, I tapped the keyboard, typed in the name. “You should probably see this.”
“Just tell me.”
“Noita means witch.”
“It does not.”
I was getting tired of him arguing with everything I said. I turned the computer in his direction. “See for yourself.” I went into the bathroom and closed the door then stared into the mirror and considered what I’d read.
Noita was the Finnish word for witch. Originally applied to those who fell into a trance, it was believed that while in such a trance their spirit traveled through a hole between heaven and the underworld. There they met the souls of the dead, who offered knowledge that was otherwise lost.
Maybe I was Finnish, because the similarities between a noita and myself were pretty damning.
I showered, giving Bobby time to dress and leave. But when I opened the door, he was still there.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know why I jumped to conclusions.”
“What kind of conclusions?” I’d be interested to know what he’d thought when he’d opened my computer. He certainly couldn’t suspect that I saw dead people.
“I have no idea,” he admitted. “I was surprised to find the words Venatores Mali since I was alone when Mrs. Noita told me…” He paused. “Do you think Noita was her real name?”
“That’s more your department than mine.”
“I’ll check. Anyway…” He rubbed a hand through his hair, which was already messy from my hands doing the same. Just the sight of it made me want to do it again. “She said the Venatores Mali killed her.”
I blinked, and gave a short bark of laughter.
“I know. How could a seventeenth-century Scottish witch-hunting society kill someone in America in the twenty-first century?”
“There are still Nazis,” I said.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Who’d want to be a Nazi?”
“I meant, why would you bring up Nazis?”
“Any society can be revived. For that matter, anyone can start a society and slap any name on it that they want. It’s America.”
Land of the free, home of anyone—including Nazis and witches.
“But a witch-hunting society?” Bobby persisted. “That’s crazy.”
“They’re definitely crazy.”
“There’s no such thing as witches.”
“There are, Bobby.”
His expression went mulish.
“Just because they don’t fly on broomsticks doesn’t mean they aren’t witches. Or at least that they believe they are or say they are. All it would take is for someone who hates them…”
I paused as a thought trickled through my head but thankfully not out of my mouth: Someone like you.
I pushed it away and continued. “For someone who hates them to get it into their head to eliminate witches. Add a few more crazies, and you’ve got yourself a tribe. There isn’t anything much stronger than insane people with a cause.”
“Just look at the Nazis,” Bobby murmured. “You think Mrs. Noita’s niece was a witch too?”
“Only one way to find out. Bowl of blood, call forth a demon; he should be able tell us.”
Bobby’s mouth opened and shut, like a goldfish that had done a triple reverse Moses and landed on the floor.
“Kidding.” I really needed to stop messing with people when I was uncomfortable. It didn’t make me feel any less so and usually made the recipient more so. Lose-lose.
“You could go to her house, her work, ask questions.” I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial level. “Like a detective.”
What had I just thought about messing with people? It was pretty hard not to.
“Good idea,” he said.
“Let me know how it goes.”
“Won’t have to. You’re coming with me.”
Although I would like nothing better than to spend a day with Bobby Doucet, witch hunting wasn’t what I had in mind. Pretty soon it was going to occur to him to ask why the witch hunters were after me.
“I have papers to correct. Lessons to plan.” At least there wasn’t a Packer game—bye, week—or my day would really be rushed.
“Bring it along. I promised Chief Johnson I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.”
“But—”
“Get dressed, Raye. We’re going to Madison.”