The 5th Witch by Graham Masterton Page A

around the room, with Malkin following him. He had been in Annie’s apartment plenty of times before, but because he had never really believed in witchery, he had never taken the time to examine what was on the walls. A medieval astrology chart, like a wheel covered with stars and plowshares and axes, showing the precise date and time that anybody could expect to die. Seven wands, each enameled a different color, with semiprecious stones set into their pommels, arranged in a fan shape. A three-barred cross cast out of bronze, with a serpent winding around it.
    Annie watched him with an amused look on her face.
    “Is this stuff simply for decoration?” he asked her. “Or does any of it actually work? ”
    “It depends who’s using it. I could never get those wands to do anything, but I just love the way they look. They’re supposed to be Egyptian, but I doubt if they are. They were probably made in Gary, Indiana.”
    She went over to a small desk in the corner, opened the drawer, and took out a folded street map of Los Angeles. She opened it and laid it out on the rug. Malkin immediately walked across it, then walked back again, enjoying the crackle she made.
    “Come on, you,” said Annie. “You may be my familiar, but right now you’re being nothing but a pesky nuisance.” She carried Malkin out and shut her in the kitchen, returning with a silver-topped saltshaker.
    She knelt on the floor at the edge of the map, and said, “I pour a spoonful of salt onto the map and if it detects a place where a sorceress lives, it will form a little heap.”
    “Amazing. Who needs GPS?”
    “Witches hate salt because it’s the symbol of purity and cleanliness. In the Middle Ages, women used to make a big show of salting their food so that people wouldn’t suspect them of having sex with the devil.”
    “Where does the needle come into it?”
    “You place the needle on the heap of salt, and if it rises vertically of its own accord, then you know that the location is genuine.”
    Dan sat down on one of the couches. “Okay then, why don’t you give it a try? I know where the Zombie lives, so I’ll be able to tell if it works or not.”
    Annie unscrewed the top of the saltshaker and poured about a tablespoonful into the palm of her hand. She scattered it across the map, and at the same time she whispered, “ Show me where the witch is hiding. Scurry quick, and find her lair. Show me where the witch is hiding, so that I can trap her there. Salt so clean and salt so white. Show me where she hides this night .”
    “Why are you whispering?” asked Dan.
    “Because this is a Russian incantation, and most Russian incantations are whispered. It makes themmore magical. At least the Russians used to think so. The word ‘whisper’ in Russian means the same thing as ‘cast a spell.’”
    Dan stared down at the map. So far, nothing was happening.
    “I don’t think this is going to work,” he told Annie. “Maybe you’re using the wrong kind of salt.”
    “Don’t be so impatient,” said Annie. “Even salt needs some time to think.”
    Dan kneaded his forehead with his fingertips. He felt as if he were developing a migraine. If he had known this morning that he was going to vomit quarters in the street, then try to locate a witch with a road map and a handful of salt, he would have stayed in bed.
    “I can get you some powdered moss if you have a headache,” said Annie.
    “No thanks, I’m fine.”
    “You know what they used to do back in the seventeenth century? If you had a really bad headache, they used to tighten a hangman’s noose around your head. Either that, or they would give you a hard kick in the shins, so that the pain dropped from your head to your legs.”
    “I think I’ll stick to Advil, thanks.”
    Three or four minutes passed. Nothing.
    Dan said, “Either this doesn’t work, or Michelange DuPriz wasn’t a witch at all.”
    “Wait! Be patient. This is Los Angeles, remember, not some Russian