Witch & Curse by Nancy Holder, Debbie Viguié

now. He smiled faintly at her, and she shivered and looked away again.
    The flowers on the caskets were being drenched,the ink on the florist cards blurring. Holly felt a flash of unreasonable anger at Barbara.
This is San Francisco, for God’s sake; why
didn’t
you think of tents?
    Time passed, she didn’t know how much of it, but the rain turned into a storm; Holly couldn’t hear the words of the minister at all. Yet he droned on, completely ignoring everything else, oblivious that now most of the attendees were fleeing to their cars.
    The clouds rumbled more intensely; then suddenly, without warning, a bolt of lightning shot down from the sky and hit an evergreen tree about a hundred yards away. To a chorus of surprised shouts, it burst into flame, which was quickly dampened by the oncoming torrents of rain. Nevertheless, Holly was jostled by the electric charge and felt the heat. Chaos broke out; there were screams as people ran in the opposite direction. Soon there was nothing but smoke to prove it had happened at all, and then a few burned limbs on an otherwise healthy tree. But the terror of the moment had ruined the service.
    To the few stalwarts who remained, the thin, grayfaced funeral director in his black suit stepped forward with his hands extended.
    â€œI’m very sorry,” he announced, “but we really must leave. It’s dangerous to be out here with the lightning.” He gestured at the tree. “Especially withthe metal tips and spines on these umbrellas.”
    He walked over to Holly and took her elbow. “I’m so very sorry.” He looked like he meant it.
    All she could think of to say was, “Barbara has a covered patio.” She was thinking of the reception. She looked uncomfortably at the caskets.
    â€œWe’ll lower them after it stops raining,” he said.
    Then she was being herded somewhere. It was the limo; and the person who was escorting her was the stranger, Michael. He put his hand gently on the crown of her head and said, “Duck down.”
    She did so. The door on the other side opened, and Barbara Davis-Chin got in, followed by Aunt Marie-Claire. Michael slid in next to Holly and shut the door.
    Barbara gathered her up and held her tightly. She was crying. “This is horrible. This is so horrible.” She brushed Holly’s sopping wet hair away from her face with a shaking hand. “Oh, my God, what a disaster.”
    Marie-Claire nodded unhappily. She asked, “Do you think anyone will come to the reception?”
    â€œOh, God.” Barbara shook her head. “I can’t deal with that.”
    â€œWe’ll handle it,” Michael announced comfortingly. “Marie-Claire and I.”
    Taking her cue from him, Holly’s aunt nodded. “Yes. We will.”
    â€œThank you. I think Holly and I will just go to my room and lie down.” Barbara pulled Holly more closely against herself.
    â€œI’ll make you some tea,” Aunt Marie-Claire soothed. “I’ll keep the guests away from both of you.”
    They rode the rest of the distance in silence. Seated so closely beside Michael, Holly smelled the man’s leather shoes and the faintest whiff of after-shave. The limo was redolent with wet wool and mud, and Holly knew that for the rest of her life, those odors would remind her of this hideous day.
    â€œWhen we get home, I’ll give you something to help you sleep,” Barbara murmured to Holly.
    â€œModern magic,” Michael said. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a tiny white stone box, opening the hinged lid. “This is an old family remedy.” He held the box open for Barbara’s inspection. “We boil it in water for tea. It’s very effective.”
    Barbara merely said, “How nice,” and took the box from him.
    Holly closed her eyes, trying to breathe. It was tight in the limo and the man was sitting too close to her. Their bodies were touching