With his name on numerous well-advertised dealerships around town, Ryan’s father, Gordon Miller was a well-known figure in the Phoenix area.  It wasn’t long before word of Ryan’s injuries and his bizarre explanation for them, quickly reached the press.  Gordon’s PR firm was immediately set out to mold Ryan’s story into something more believable.  The new story, had Jennifer getting sucked into a cult run by the mysterious Wanda, who subsequently beat Jennifer for refusing her advances.  Ryan went to confront Wanda, who hit him in the mouth with a baseball bat and then sodomized his unconscious body with the bat.  There were numerous inconsistencies with the revised story and the medical evidence which the police had to work out before arresting Wanda.

Gordon Miller was a member of the Christian Brotherhood mega-church in Mesa, mostly to mine its congregation of thousands as a customer base. Joseph Austin, the church’s high-profile leader, took an interest in Ryan’s story; particularly the original version.  Having spouted the anti-abortion, anti-gay, anti-immigrant and overall anti-liberal messages ad-nauseam, an anti-witchcraft crusade was just what Rev. Austin needed to stir up his congregation. And an active flock was a contributing flock.

Austin’s sermons exploded with energy as he raged against the witchcraft threat. His television show ratings took off as others of the religious right got caught up in the subject, including the conservative and evangelical-friendly Phoenix Mayor who was looking for a distraction from his budget cuts.  Local right-wing radio took on the cause with such noise that the mainstream media felt no choice but to follow.

The injuries were real regardless of his changing story, and Ryan was soon directed to undergo a series of surgeries to reconstruct his colon, lower intestine, and esophagus.  That was to be followed oral surgery to reattach his front teeth.

Jennifer was the good wife, dutifully standing by Ryan through his surgeries, the quiet-strong female side of this quintessential all-American couple victimized by the evil witch-like character.  And while Jennifer did try to stay silent about the incident as much as possible, when pressed she would back her husband’s story.

Wanda returned after two weeks to find her former unknown persona to have become the most infamous person in the Phoenix Metropolitan Area.  Every right-wing preacher in town followed Joseph Austin’s lead, and Wanda had to drive through a screaming mob outside the gates of her home. The press enthusiastically covered the story daily, digging as deep as they could into this rich, possibly dangerous, yet extremely photogenic mystery woman.  And because of the hype, Ryan’s small sketchy assault case became the Phoenix and Scottsdale Police Department’s highest priority.

First things first.  The last of Ryan’s surgical procedures was the following day.  Wanda paid a little floating visit to the operating room.  She considered killing him, but decided for a more successful mind wipe.  Her original one was casually done after a long night of magic and an entertaining bit of sex and she didn’t give enough thought to the memory trigger effect of each of Ryan’s many injuries.  She took her time now, and Ryan came out of anesthesia with absolutely no memory of what happened that night, or anything since then.

The women present that night had all denied witnessing the events that evening, undoubtedly out of fear of Wanda herself and to their credit, had quickly met to agree on an alternative story of them meeting and just discussing gender politics before leaving early. To tie those loose ends, Wanda “visited” each one and replaced their real memory with the one they concocted.  Not that it was really necessary, but she also put in each no desire to attend any further meetings.  This coven was officially over.

Jennifer was left with her real memories.  She would have to live with what she saw and her weakness in siding with that lout of a husband. 

The labyrinth of finances and shell companies had so far prevented the press from connecting Wanda Bertrand to Barrington industries, but it might be only a matter of time before they broke through, so she created some digital data to send them in circles.

None of these things would take care of the crazed mob outside her gate, though.  At times, she wanted to kill all of them, or at least have them all pass out whenever she entered or exited the property, but any paranormal thing she would do to them would just confirm their evil witch claims, which to be fair, weren’t too far off the mark.  Wanda didn’t think of herself as evil per se, just…pragmatic.  She worked with what she had.  She just happened to have a lot.

Wanda didn’t leave them completely alone.  She made them sleepy, their voices would get horse from their chants a little sooner than normal, and when the Arizona heat was at its highest, it would be ten degrees higher outside her gate.  A particularly annoying guy who pounded on her windshield when she drove in, wet his pants while talking to a reporter.

She considered heading back to her house in Malibu, but didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of driving her out.  To get them to go, they needed to point their rage somewhere else.

She turned her attention to their leader, Rev. Austin.  Typical of his kind, he was more con-man than cleric, but turning his flock against him wasn’t the best bet.  Better to get the press to expose him, so the mob could turn their wrath on the press.  This meant a strategy of getting some embarrassing pieces of evidence to a reporter who would take it and run with it.

But she didn’t get the chance to play it out.  Kate, her COO was in town to go over a new contract and a possible damage control strategy should Wanda’s status with the company be discovered. To avoid exposing Kate to the horde, Wanda left her house to meet at Kate’s hotel suite.  Funny how anyone who tried to follow her always managed to run into a parked car.

Kate was surprisingly unsurprised at Wanda’s situation.  She always knew there was something special about her and Winetta, and had even suspected the truth about them being the same person.

So, Kate was understanding and helpful. An hour into the meeting however; Wanda sensed something wrong.  She was picking up intense feelings of distress from Macbeth, her cat. 

Fire! 

A quick remote view trip confirmed that the house was indeed on fire.  It was undoubtedly vandalism.  But never mind that, Macbeth, the cat she had loved for almost 40 years, was on a high shelf in a room engulfed in flames and Wanda’s powers didn’t include a way to help him.  Outside, a crowd was cheering.  The meeting with Kate was cut-short, and Wanda rushed back to her house only to be impeded a half-block away.  Up ahead was a mess of people, cars, cops, and fire trucks.  The fire trucks were in the street, not at her house! The first firefighter Wanda ran to, pointed to who was in charge.

Upon demanding to know why they weren’t putting out her fire, the Station Commander, who recognized her, shrugged his shoulders and said they couldn’t get through the gates.  That was bullshit.  By regulation, all fire departments had the means of getting through such gates, and Wanda’s home was no different.  The commander smiled as he said, “Yeah, didn’t work for some reason.” Wanda didn’t need to probe his mind to know that he was lying. But a quick probe did reveal a devout religious man who had no intention on saving the house of the “evil witch”.  If looks could kill…well in her case they could.  Behind her dagger eyes, she conjured a cerebral aneurism that would burst in exactly one minute.  As much as she wanted to see it happen, she turned instead and ran toward her house.

The gate opened before she got there and she ran up the long driveway and straight into the inferno without the slightest hesitation.  Her shield protected her from the flames even as it was powered by them.  She had felt nothing from her cat for a while and was hoping it was just unconsciousness up until she found the cat’s burned body.  She had loved that cat and their 38-year relationship was significantly longer than she had had with any person.  She felt the grief rise up and she dampened it back down.  She would grieve, but now was not the time. 

She knew if she concentrated hard enough, she could have put the fire out simply by taking in all its energy, and thus heat. But there was no point. The house was clearly beyond repair.  All of her art was destroyed as were her clothes. But her office was largely spared so far and there lie her most valuable possessions.

Wanda walked out of the raging fire to the astonishment of onlookers without a single singed hair or so much as a smudge mark on her designer clothes.  A partially burned satchel hung from her shoulder which carried her laptop, an external hard drive, some ancient texts and her notes from her native American research.

Within the crowd, there was a circle of fire and policemen around the laid-out body of the station commander.  Some turned to her and loudly accused her of killing him, though they had no idea how. Ignoring them as she walked by, several tried to apprehend her only to be shoved away with a shocking level of force.  As she walked away, one police officer drew his gun, followed by another.  Repeated shouts for her to stop went unheeded as the crowd quickly parted to clear a wide space between them.  Hesitant to shoot her in such a crowded area, the officers increased the volume and intensity of their threats.  When the space cleared in front of her, as well, the first officer, no longer able to tolerate her disrespect, finally fired two shots at the tall woman. 

The crowd panicked scattering to each side as fast as they could.  By contrast, nothing happened to the woman. She just kept walking as if he had fired blanks.  Unable to understand how he missed; he emptied his gun at her with his companion joining in.  Still nothing, except that he could now see some of the bullets bounce on the ground behind her heels just before she turned to open the door of her Range Rover which took the last two bullets. 

Wanda didn’t even bother to look at the cops’ bewildered faces as she backed up, turned around and left her burning home.  ‘I hate this town!’ she thought.  ‘I absolutely hate this town and everyone in it!’