by Sable Hunter
“Get back, for God’s sake.” Philip bit the words out, his face contorted with pain.
Trying to speak, caused Philip to flail his arms – and when he did, the snake’s attention turned back to him. The serpent raised half its body off the ground into an evil S shape, its cottonmouth opened wide, such a contrast to the thick black body. Easy could see the inevitable coming – the snake was about to bite Philip in the upper thigh or the groin.
“No!”
To both men’s shock, just as the pit viper struck and stabbed Philip in the thigh, the woman bent and grabbed the snake by its stubby tail, picking it up from the ground. Bending forward to keep the reptile away from her body, she whipped her arm and tossed the angry snake as far away from her as she could.
“Your leg…” She turned to point at Easy. “Hurry. Help me.”
Still dazed, Easy made his feet move and came hurrying to where Philip stood caught in the vicious teeth of some kind of trap. “What in the world?”
“Bear trap,” the girl muttered, her hands working quickly. “Here, press on the springs.” She indicated the spiral steel on either side of the jaws.
“Hold on, buddy.” Easy did as he was told, pressing on the springs. When he did, the jaws snapped open.
“Keep it…open. Steady,” she told Easy, her speaking voice a bit halting and hesitant. “Don’t want it to snap shut.”
Easy kept the pressure on, opening the jaws wide enough that Philip could lift his leg from the trap.
“Fuck Almighty,” Philip muttered once he was free.
“Let’s see how badly you’re hurt.” Without waiting for an invitation or a request, she knelt next to Philip and began tugging on the leg of his pants. “Do you have a knife?” she asked Easy.
“Yea.” He pulled his pocketknife from his front pocket and handed it to her.
“I don’t think it’s too bad, just bruised. I’m more worried about the snakebite.”
The brown-haired girl worked quickly with the knife, pressing the point into one of the holes made by the trap, then ripping the material up with the help of the blade.
While she worked, Easy examined the trap. “The teeth aren’t as sharp as I thought they’d be.”
Without looking over her shoulder, she spoke to Easy, “Please gather up the contents of the basket I dropped. Just roots and herbs. I need the cottonwood leaves.”
“Be careful,” Philip warned, pointing to the brush. “Make damn sure that snake isn’t headed back this way.”
Grimacing, Easy eyed the direction he’d seen the moccasin fly. He ventured forward a step or two. “I think it’s gone.” Spotting the basket, he surveyed the ground, retrieving the roll of paper towels, and all the loose pieces of vegetation he could see strewn about. When he looked back, it was to see that the young lady had opened up Philip’s pant leg all the way to his hip, and now she was holding his thigh steady with both her hands while her mouth was latched to the wound made by the snake. The sight shocked him. Even though he knew what she was doing, the act looked as intimate as hell. “I didn’t think you were supposed to do that anymore.”
Philip didn’t even raise his head, he seemed mesmerized by the woman and her actions.
“Here’s the basket? How is he?”
The girl sat back, grabbing a napkin from the basket to wipe her mouth. “I don’t think the snake injected much, if any, venom. As far as the wounds from the trap go, there are four. Two will require stitches.” Pulling the basket close, she hastily pulled out some dark green, tear-dropped shaped leaves, crushing them between her fingers. “Just as soon as I get some of this in the wound, he needs to go to the clinic.”
“I’ll drive him.” Easy took Philip’s arm. “Can you walk?”
“Of course.” Philip waved his hand dismissively, as if he was too busy to consider the matter. Staring at the brown-haired girl, he asked softly, “Where did you come from?”
“I can’t leave my horse.” Easy was thinking and moving at the same time. “I’ll lead her while we drive and leave her with the guys working on the fence. They can take her back to the barn.”
Philip didn’t seem to hear a word his foreman was saying. His attention was still on the girl. “What’s your name and where did you come from?” he asked again.
Following Easy’s lead, she took Philip’s other arm to guide him to the Jeep. “I’m Wren Rabalais. I live close by.”
Easy didn’t say anything, he was more intent on getting his boss some help. Once he settled Philip into the front seat, he ran back to get his horse.
“I’m glad you aren’t leaving the animal,” she told him. “There are too many predators nearby.”
After seeing the snake and realizing someone thought there was a bear near enough to trap, Easy agreed, “You’re not just whistling Dixie.”
“So much danger,” she mused, then looked at Philip. “That’s why I’ve been watching over you.”
“What?” Philip looked stunned. “You’ve been watching me?”
“Yes. I saw you the first day you came, I’ve been looking out for you ever since.”
“You have?”
Seeing his boss still looked and sounded dazed, Easy tried to reassure him. “Just hang on, Philip. We’ll get you some help ASAP.” After dropping off the horse with Wesley, he angled the Jeep toward the main gate. Once he made it to the road, Easy sped up, pushing the Jeep to the limit, not caring if he attracted the attention of a highway patrol. This was an emergency.
After going a few miles, he felt calm enough to talk. “You said you lived nearby?” he asked the newcomer fully aware that anywhere she could’ve walked from…would still be on McCoy land. As far as he could tell, the girl was a trespasser.
“Yes. Not far.” She looked down, a hint of wariness coming to her face.
“And you said your name is Wren…what?”
“Rabalais,” she answered softly. “And your name?”
“I’m Easy Blackhawk. I work for this man, Philip McCoy, the owner of Belle Chasse.”
“The owner?” Wren asked in a soft voice, looking at Philip with what appeared to be alarm on her face. “I thought…you were one of the ranch hands.”
“Nope. Philip is an important man. He’s not only a rancher, he’s a college professor. An archaeologist.”
At Easy’s bragging intro, Philip only looked annoyed. “None of that is relevant at the moment.”
Still…Wren looked suitably impressed. She stared at Philip with wide eyes. “I knew you were nice; I should’ve known you were smart. The first time I saw you, you were stopped in your truck, waiting for a doe and her fawn to cross the road. Most men I know would have killed them on the spot.”
“So…you live with your family?” Easy knew he wasn’t really part of the conversation, but he felt responsible for his friend.
“No.”
“You live alone?” Easy kept up the interrogation.
“Does it matter, Easy?” Philip asked, sounding a little irritated.
“Sorry.” He could tell the man felt like shit, he was pale and sweaty. “I just need to know where to drop her off when we’re through.”
“I’ll see to it,” Philip assured him. “Wren took care of me. I’ll take care of her.”
“Right. I’ll just drive.” Backing off, he zipped his lips. Clearly, Philip was operating on his own agenda. Easy understood completely, he had his own woman to worry about.
* * *
“I just wanted you to know how happy I am, Jewel. Your love spell worked like a charm.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Willie Mae.”
“Yes, Everett is being so attentive. You should see the…” A weird sound obliterated her next word. “…he bought for me.”
“What did you say, Willie Mae?” Jewel strained to hear. There was an odd noise drowning out the woman’s voice.
“A bracelet. He gave me a bracelet.”
Jewel could barely hear what she was saying. In fact, Jewel quit trying. She was t
oo horrified to realize the sound of a woman screaming was overriding Willie Mae’s voice. Screaming and begging for her life. “Can you hear me?” she yelled into the phone.
“Yes. I…you fine!”
Jewel shook her head. “Willie, do you hear someone screaming?”
“Just me!” she yelled.
This, Jewel heard. “Listen to me. I need you to come over. Now.”
“Now?”
“Yes. The only stop I want you to make is to the cemetery. Bring a plastic baggy filled with dirt from your father’s grave.”
Jewel could tell Willie was saying something, but she wasn’t sure what…something about the grave. Shaking her head, she tried to guess what the woman could be telling her. “I know your father is buried in an aboveground tomb. The dirt nearest to his grave will be just fine.”
After that, the screams became so loud, Jewel gave up. She ended the call hoping Willie understood what she needed her to do. As soon as she hung up the phone, Jewel sat down feeling weak, almost limp with emotion.
“Jewel?”
Eliza’s small cry took Jewel by surprise. She jumped, feeling almost overwhelmed by the supernatural. In her heart, she knew the screams she’d just listened to were the dying cries of the woman whose body was found at Belle Chase.
“Yea, honey?”
“Somebody’s knocking.” She pointed at the door.
“Oh, my. Oh, goodness.” Jewel jumped up. “You’re right.”
Before hurrying to the front, she took a moment to glance at her computer. Hitting the enter bar, she saw Bernadette standing on her front porch with some papers and a plastic bag in her hands. “Let’s hope this is good news.”
“Come in.” Jewel greeted her guest. “I guess you found something.”
“I think so.” Bernadette stepped into the living room, her eyes going immediately to the salt/dust circle. “Is…she still here?”
Realizing the woman couldn’t see the small ghost, Jewel nodded. “She is. Eliza’s getting a little impatient. Understandably. I hope we can help her.”
Going to the dining table, Bernadette spread out some printouts. “My brother was able to find a newspaper article that I think is pertinent.”
Jewel joined her, bringing the paper close enough to see. The headline was enough to make her catch her breath, sinking into a chair. Thibodaux Child Run Over and Killed.
Not wanting to upset Eliza, she began to read to herself.
The five-year old daughter of John and Mary Dupree of 1800 Elmhurst was killed by a passing motorist yesterday. Eyewitness and an interview with the parents reported that the child was playing outdoors when she wandered across the street, following a stray dog. When the mother came outside to check on the small child, she called Eliza’s name. Hearing her mother’s summons, she ran across the road, straight into the path of an oncoming vehicle. The little girl was killed instantly.
“Oh, my.” Jewel almost doubled over in pity. “Can you imagine the guilt the mother must have felt?”
“No.” Bernadette shook her head. “I can’t.”
Jewel glanced over to see Eliza playing with the doll she’d given her the day before. If Bernadette were to look over at that moment, she would see the doll slowly moving from side to side as the little girl stroked its hair. “Did you find anything else?”
“On the way here, I stopped at the nursing facility to speak to my grandmother. She remembers her mother speaking of the incident. Mary Dupree was in such a state her husband sold the house and they moved away.” She held up the bag. “This was all they left behind.”
“Could I see?” Jewel asked, reaching out her hand.
“Yes, of course.”
Her heart clutched when Bernadette placed a pair of worn white leather baby shoes into her hand. “These belonged to Eliza.” she whispered.
“Yes. This picture was with the shoes.” She held up a photograph for Jewel to see. “Mary and Eliza.”
“How happy they look.” Jewel wanted to cry. “Okay.” Shaking her head to dispel the grief, she wiped a bit of dampness from her cheek. “I will try to use these things to unite the mother and child.”
Bernadette rose. “Do you think that will work?” She turned to stare toward the circle. Her eye caught the slight movement of the doll. “You’ve got to make it work. As sad as this is, I can’t have her coming back to my house with my child.”
Jewel wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. Most people wouldn’t welcome this type of addition to their family. “I’ll do what I can.” What she wouldn’t do was leave Eliza in this circle indefinitely. “All right.” She gestured toward the items Bernadette brought with her. “Thanks for this.”
“Oh…and there’s one more thing.” Bernadette visibly shivered, glancing toward the circle.
“What’s that?”
“Mary Dupree told my great-grandmother that she saw her little girl…after the funeral. She felt Eliza was angry with her, that’s why she almost went crazy.”
“I see.” Jewel rubbed her arms, trying to dispel the chill the woman’s words gave her. “I can’t imagine a woman running from her child.”
Bernadette sighed. “Me either.” After a moment’s hesitation, she gave Jewel a hug. “I hope you have good luck – for all our sakes.”
Once the woman was on her way, Jewel took a deep breath. Now, she had to do something she dreaded – and she didn’t mean summoning Eliza’s mother.
No. She meant calling her own.
Witch Hazel Baptiste.
Gritting her teeth, she took the phone and headed for the sliding French doors off the dining room. “Eliza, I’ll be right back. I need a little air.”
The little girl didn’t even look up from her play. “Okay, Jewel.”
Outside on the deck, Jewel took a seat at the wrought iron café table. From this vantage point, she could see her mother’s house. Funny, she was already seeing it differently – now, it was Easy’s place. A smile played on her lips when she thought about what the evening might hold – if she could just get through this hectic day.
“All right. All right. Get on with it.” Dialing her mother’s cell, she awaited an answer.
First ring.
“Jewel?”
The surprise and delight in her mother’s voice took Jewel by surprise. “I’m sure you’ve been holding the phone awaiting my call for the last ten minutes. I’ve never been able to get anything past you.”
“True. I usually know what’s coming.”
Except for the sting operation that swindled millions from innocent people – committed in your name. Jewel’s thought became Hazel’s.
“Yes, yes, I know all about it. Is that why you called? To remind your mother of her transgressions?”
“No.” Jewel let out a long sigh, her eyes wandering over the emerald green hostas, the white ginger lilies, the small village of fairy houses that she loved so well. “No. How are you, Mother?”
“Oh, you know how I am.” Her mother let out a lilting laugh. “You’re as psychic as I am.”
“Hardly.”
“Your aunt and I are doing well. We have a schedule all worked out. On Mondays, we play bingo. On Wednesdays, we teach classes at the local witch academy. The weekends are spent at the beach or at the local farmer’s markets. Mavis has this cute little gypsy wagon that her husband hauls around for us. We sell a line very much like our original one. Oils. Herbs. Potions. Effigies.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“But…that’s not why you called. What do you need, my dear?”
Not in the mood for a long chat, Jewel was glad of her mother’s insight. “Well, you probably already have a good idea of my problem…but I need to summon a spirit. The mother of a small female spirit. The child has been wandering in the shadows for over seventy years.” Jewel’s voice softened. “She’s just a sweet little girl who doesn’t understand death. She only wants to be with her mama.”
“I see. I presume you have something that belonged to the mo
ther or to her child? Something material?”
“I have a pair of the little girl’s baby shoes and a photograph of the pair.”
“All right. Sounds sufficient.”
“What do I do? How can I call forth Mary Dupree? Do you think I can unite them?”
“Maybe.”
“What do I do? I’ve summoned Cotton. I’ve called forth others…but…” Jewel sighed. “I just don’t know, Mother. I used to think there was nothing to the idea of a spirit moving on. Crossing over. But how do we know? Surely, if Eliza’s mother could…she’d return for her child?”
“It’s impossible for us to be certain, of course, but from what you’ve told me, I think this mother is so burdened with guilt that she can’t forgive herself – much less hope for her child’s forgiveness.”
“I’m not even sure Eliza has a concept of such a notion. And I’m equally positive she wouldn’t have blamed her mother for her death. She only wants to be at her side.”
“Where is this child? Trapped in an attic somewhere?”
“At the moment, she’s sitting in a salt and brick dust circle in my living room. She’d attached herself to an autistic child after his family moved into the home where Eliza once lived. The little boy was able to communicate with the spirit, which freaked the mother out. His doctors labeled the poor little fellow as psychotic.”
“So, when she came to you for help, you decided to keep the little spirit for yourself?”
“Not at first.” Jewel leaned forward, holding her head in her hands. “She’s sweet, Mom. She’s just a little girl. I want to make her feel happy. Safe. I want to give Eliza her mother back.”
“If her mother is…the same. Not angry.”
Even though Hazel couldn’t see her, Jewel nodded. “Yea.” She’d seen some who’d lost their minds while they were alive, and death hadn’t given it back to them.
“Okay. Well. I don’t think this will be too difficult. You have her child and some of her possessions. I would suggest you use a mirror.” Hazel paused, making a humming sound. “If you look in the French armoire nearest the window, there’s a grimoire that belonged to my mother. I can almost guarantee you’ll find a spell that will work for you there.”
