Witch Ball

Word Count: 886


The knock came fast and hard. She swung herself off the smelly sofa and grabbed her gun as she rose. She opened her hotel room as fast as she could. No one was there. About to close the door she looked down. At her feet rested a small box. It was addressed to her at the hotel. She pocketed her weapon and carried it inside. Christina sat it down at the table and carefully opened it. It had been a long night of dealing with a contact on the black market and she was weary and tired yet very cautious. Once the box was opened she carefully lifted the flaps and looked inside. It was a small glass ball. It looked almost like a Christmas ornament. Christina reached for it only to stop a few inches away. A bad feeling crept on the back of her neck.

She pulled out her phone and pressed a few buttons.

"Hello" Came a sleepy voice.

"Sara, it is Christina Cortes."

"It is the middle of the night." Sara complained. Christina heard the background noise. A male whisper, a rustle of blankets.

"Sorry to disturb everything but it is not night time where I am. I need to describe something to you. I know you can't touch it and tell me if it is safe. I need to make sure it is not a threat."

Awake now, Sara sat up. "Ok" she listened carefully. After a few she said "Where are you? Eastern Europe...ok. You have a witch ball."

"A what?"

"Hollow sphere of plain or stained glass hung to usually ward off evil spirits. It should be safe to touch. Pick it up"

Turning the phone on speaker and setting it down, Christina reached into the box and pulled it out. How can something be heavy and light? She held it up to the light. It was almost clear with bands of blue and purple around it in cloud like wisps. She spoke out loud as she turned it. Slowly. Something was in it. she peered closer.

"Oh shit!" She shouted nearly dropping it.

Across the ocean Sara jerked as Christina's shouts filled the room. "What?"

"A face in the ball!"

"Some believe a spirit can be drawn to a witch ball and when touched, the ball absorbs and traps the spirit's energy within preventing the spirit from affecting its surroundings. Hence the use of them to ward off evil spirits. Who certainly don't want to be trapped. Whose face was it?"

Christina didn't answer her. Instead she looked again. The face was still visible. faintly.

"Christina? Who is it?"

"If I didn't know better, I would say it is Thomas Wright."

"The ass that screwed you over twice? Should have sued him"

"Why? he was sent to Leavenworth in the end" She sat the witch ball on the dirty, ratty sofa. It almost glowed. After having faced down mercenaries, giant snakes and her father the night he turned on her, not much scared her. The witch ball was scaring her.

"Can you get online and send a picture to me? I know! Webcam. I know I'm not much of an empath when I can't be near a person or an object but I think if I see it, it will help."

Christina got up and walked over to her laptop and fired it up. She played around with the webcam settings. As she did so, Sara got up and went to hers and turned on the webchat. Christina appeared on her screen. She looked worn out, her long dark brown hair was in all directions. She was almost bent over her keypad and Sara spotted the scars across her chest. Plus a few new wounds. The life of a treasure hunter was a hard one.

Christina held up the ball.

"Wow, that is beautiful. I can tell it was hand made."

"How?"

"Your nails. You are tapping it. It sounds heavy. Factory made balls for gardens tend to be light and thin. I don't see a face."

"My nose has to be right on it." Christina put the ball back down and turned to the box. The writing suddenly very familiar to her. "Sara? Where is Art?"

"With her little girls on a personal trip around the English countyside. Touring old settlements...oh! She sent it? Why would she sent it?"

She held it up to the camera. "It doesn't say who sent it, but it sure looks like Calypso's writing." Christina tilted her head. "but at five she wouldn't understand the Thomas angle. Her mother would however."

"Maybe you just think you see his face. After all, he almost got you killed. And when that didn't work.." Sara yawned. She tried to hide it under her long blond hair but failed.

"Maybe. Listen, I'll let you go. Should I mail this to you in the states?"

"No. It was sent to you to protect you. Keep it with you." They hung up and Christina again picked up the ball. She couldn't be imagining Thomas inside. Could she?

Back in the US, Sara turned off the camera but left the internet open. Curious she found herself googling Thomas Wright and stopped fast at the first news story.

Government traitor found in coma in cell at Leavenworth.

Was it possible?