Witch & Curse by Nancy Holder, Debbie Viguié Page A

and she was embarrassed,but it seemed ridiculous to be upset about that now. Of course, so much of today had been ridiculous.
    My parents are dead. I didn’t even get to say good-bye
.
    It seemed like forever until the limo driver rolled to a stop and opened his door. They were at Barbara’s house in Pacific Heights, with its mansard roof and its elegant white urns flanking the doorway. She had always loved the Davis-Chin home, with its soothing elegance and the happiness it contained inside.
    Michael got out first; then Holly. She waited beneath Michael’s umbrella for Barbara to emerge, shivering with cold and terrified of having to face any questions from people waiting inside Barbara’s house. There were cars parking and the front door opened; one of her father’s colleagues glanced out awkwardly at her. He was holding a glass of wine.
    â€œMa’ am?” the limo driver said to Barbara as he stood behind the passenger door.
    Holly glanced up at the limo driver, who shrugged and bent down to peer into the limo’s interior.
    â€œMa’am?” he said again, and then more urgently,
“Ma’am?”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Holly cried, craning to see around him.
    There was a silence. Holly’s heart thundered.
    â€œCall 9-1-1!” the driver shouted.
“Now.”
    A bird burst from the car, grazing the tip of Holly’s cheek with its wing. She recoiled with a yelp. Where the hell did that thing come from? She stared after the retreating bird as it flew high in the sky, turned, and then flew straight for the car, dive-bombing like a kamikaze pilot. It crashed into the closed passenger window on the side opposite the driver, splintering the fortified, tinted glass like a pane of candy.
    With a horrible shriek, it collapsed onto the shard of glass, and was beheaded. Its body detached and thunked to the ground while the head must have rolled outside. Blood gouted from the creature’s neck as its legs jerked and danced in a nervous paroxysm of death.
    Holly doubled over and threw up, and Michael put his arm around her shoulders and whispered, “Let me get you inside.”
    Hours later, Holly managed to trudge from Barbara’s hospital room at Marin County General to the beautifully appointed waiting room. The doctor on staff was new and hadn’t known that Holly was “family.” She made no protest. She could barely speak as it was.
    As she stumbled across the threshold, Michael and Aunt Marie-Claire looked up in unison. They wereseated on an elegant chocolate leather sofa, and the two of them were very striking side by side. They looked very much like a couple, and Holly wondered what was going on between them. Since Marie-Claire was married to someone else—Holly had figured that much out—she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
    Marie-Claire cradled a Styrofoam cup between her hands; Michael had been reading the
San Francisco Chronicle
.
    â€œHow is she?” Holly’s aunt asked.
    Holly licked her lips and shook her head. Her stomach was churning. “They don’t know what’s wrong. She’s not doing all that great.”
    She didn’t mention all the machines hooked up to Barbara, monitoring her vitals, helping her breathe. Nor did she mention the scratches that covered Barbara’s face and the fact that the doctors’ couldn’t positively link the bird attack to her condition. Or the pitying looks the nurses gave her as she sat helplessly by Barbara’s side.
    â€œOh, dear.” Her aunt reached out for a hug. Holly obliged. Her jewelry jangled in Holly’s ear. “I’m here, Holly.” She sighed and touched Holly’s hair. “Unless there’s someone else you’d like to call.”
    â€œNo,” Holly told her, although to be honest, thelist of someone-elses was long. She was too tired and upset to deal with it.
    â€œWould you like something? Some tea?”