Ghost of Himself

by Pandora Pine

  “Where you’ve been since Copeland landed in Salem?” Jude chimed in. “Not trying to be a jerk here, but usually you’re all over these investigations.”

  “He’s just precious when he’s all-in on an investigation.” Bertha batted her eyes at Jude.

  “He makes a good point, Mom.” Carson sighed. “Where have you been? The kids have been asking for you.”

  “I’ve been trying to get the skinny on who’s after you, Cope. It’s not been an easy thing to do.”

  “Bertha says she’s been trying to find out more about who’s doing this to me, but it hasn’t been easy.” Cope raked a hand through his blond hair.

  “Is black magick keeping you from getting the information we need?” Jude asked.

  All of the heads in the room swung toward Jude. “Black magick?” Cole asked. “Is that really what we’re looking at here?”

  “It is.” Bertha nodded. “It’s some of the strongest magick I’ve ever encountered in my career. I never dabbled in spell work or anything close to it. To be honest, it scared me. Still does even though I’m beyond harm.”

  Cope hadn’t really thought about his powers like that. “The Deveraux side of my mother’s family have been witches for generations. I learned spells like other kids learn nursery rhymes. Only my words set things on fire or caused plants to grow. It never occurred to me to be afraid of the magick within me.”

  Jude reached out for Copeland’s hand. “I’m not afraid.”

  Bertha’s eyes widened, but she didn’t comment. “It’s one thing to make flowers bloom in the dead of winter, Cope. It’s another entirely to kill with your words.”

  Ten gasped. “Words that can kill? Is that what this is about?”

  “You’re going to need to translate this, Ten.” Ronan looked to Jude who was wearing an identical look of concern on his face.

  “Bertha mentioned spells that make flowers bloom versus ones that kill.” Cope looked into Jude’s fiery eyes. He watched as they darkened. Bertha might be afraid of black magick incantations, but Cope was afraid of the look in Jude’s eyes. He pitied anyone who Jude turned that look toward.

  “We had a feeling this prick was coming at Cope with both barrels blazing, Bertha, but can you give us any information about him? Madam Aurora said something yesterday that indicated that this man was after something that was never meant to be his.”

  “I’m getting that too, but he’s managed to cloak himself so well that I can’t see much more than the fact that it’s a man and that he’ll be here tomorrow.”

  “What do you mean you don’t see much more than that? What else is there?” Cope asked. “We already knew that he would be here tomorrow.”

  The table erupted in outraged shouts. “You knew that?” Ronan shouted. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell us?”

  “Calm down everyone.” Jude held up a hand. He turned to look at Copeland who was shaking his head.

  “We didn’t tell you because there was nothing to be done about it.” Cope shrugged. “I spent the night researching spells to keep myself and Jude safe and I’m not sure what he did.” Cope turned back to Jude.

  “I spent the night talking to my tribal elders. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that. I needed to thank them for healing Cope and wanted to see if they had any guidance to offer me for the battle to come.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.” Cope squeezed their still joined hands.

  Jude smiled. “We were both a little out of sorts this morning.”

  “Does that mean you can talk to the dead?” Ten asked, sounding completely stunned.

  “Only to tribal elders. As a medicine man, a Hatalii, I have the ability to communicate with the elders who’ve come before me. I can’t hear Bertha at all. Sometimes I can sense when she’s around, like when she loves on me, but that’s it.”

  “And you’ve got a heightened sense of intuition,” Ten added.

  Jude nodded. “That’s something I’ve tried to develop over the years. It’s a matter of trusting my gut and listening to that little voice inside me.”

  “Ask Jude what the elders told him,” Bertha said.

  “Bertha wants to know what the elders told you,” Cope translated.

  “They said to trust my instincts. My gut is never wrong.” Jude looked up at Cope. “They also said this is why I’m here.”

  “Here in Salem?” Ronan asked.

  “That’s what I took it to mean, rather than the more metaphysical meaning of why I’m here on earth.”

  “You think you were sent here to Salem by your spirit guides or Navajo elders or fate to help me?” Cope couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Could it possibly be true?

  “Why not? People are moved all over the world for reasons a whole lot less important than saving a life, making a friend, and becoming part of a family.” Jude shrugged.

  Cope felt his emotions starting to fray. He wasn’t prepared for all of the information coming out of this meeting today, Ronan being pissed that no one had told him when the attacker was scheduled to hit town and now with Jude’s meeting with his tribal elders. The idea that Jude was here in Salem for him, was too much. Instead of addressing what Jude said, he went in a different direction. “Bertha, you said there was something else you saw. What is it?”

  Bertha looked up at Cope with a glint in her blue eyes. “You need to visit me, Cope.”

  “Visit you, Bertha? I am visiting you. You’re standing right in front of-” It clicked in an instant what Bertha was talking about. “Are you sure? Carson and Cole would need to give their permission.”

  “I’m giving my permission right now.” Bertha folded her arms over her chest.

  “What permission?” Cole turned to Carson with a clueless look on his face. “What are they talking about?”

  “I know what Bertha’s talking about.” There was a dark look in Dempsey’s eyes. “That’s really black magick, Bertha, are you sure about this?”

  “Of course, I’m sure. I’m the one who suggested it.” She rolled her eyes at Dempsey.

  “Wow,” Onyx muttered from across the table. “Not even I’ve tried a spell like dat before.”

  “Five minutes ago, you were talking about how white magick scared you, now you’re suggesting Copeland do something that involves you and black magick.” Dempsey was shaking his head.

  “Cope, Mom, for the love of God, will you please tell us what this is about?” Carson exchanged a worried look with his brother.

  “Grave dirt.” Bertha looked back and forth between her sons. The way she said the words indicated they alone should answer everyone’s question.

  “Hold on,” Cole sounded pissed. “Cope said he needed our permission for something. You want to dig our mother up? Is that it?”

  “Please calm down, Cole. That isn’t it at all.” Bertha moved to stand beside her sons. “All Cope and Jude need is dirt from my grave. They don’t need to dig me up like a squirrel with an acorn.”

  “Not funny, Mom.” Carson set his face in his hands.

  “What does the dirt do?” Jude asked.

  “It has many uses, protections, love spells. It can even be used to get a fair inheritance from the deceased,” Cope explained.

  “Somehow, I doubt you’re looking to employ those spells.” Jude rolled his eyes.

  How the hell was Cope going to explain this not only to Jude, but to the children of Bertha Craig? He took a deep breath. “It’s said that when you use the dirt from a grave, it imbibes the spell with the traits the person had in life. From Bertha, I’d get heart, courage, and tenacity.”

  Cole nodded. “Not to mention her pigheaded stubbornness.”

  “What are you leaving out?” Carson asked.

  Damn… He’d been hoping the part about taking on Bertha’s traits would be good enough for the Craig brothers. He’d noticed Onyx and Dempsey were keeping their lips zipped. Cope looked up at both of them. Each man was nodding at him.

  “Tell them, Copeland,” Bertha urged.


  “Bertha will be here for the fight. Once I mix the ingredients and say the words, her spirit will materialize. Jude and Ronan will be able to see her. Hug her. So, will the kids.”

  The room was dead silent. Everyone’s mouths were hanging open. Ronan had tears running down his face.

  Cope turned to Jude. Even without being able to read the P.I., he knew exactly what the next words out of his mouth were going to be.

  “What’s this going to cost?” Jude looked to Dempsey and Onyx. “One of you. Both of you. Tell me now. What is it going to cost to cast this spell?”

  “It could harm Bertha’s spirit,” Onyx said. “It takes a lot of power to become material. Plus, it puts her at risk to be compromised.”

  “Compromised?” Jude’s eyes moved back and forth between Dempsey and Onyx. “Compromised by evil spirits? Since the spell uses dark magick it makes her vulnerable to evil, doesn’t it?”

  Dempsey nodded. He wasn’t making eye contact with anyone.

  “No!” Jude slammed a hand down on the table, making Tennyson jump. “I get that you want to do everything in your power to help us, Bertha, but I can’t allow you to put your soul at risk for me and Cope.” He swiped at angry tears starting in his eyes. “As nice as it would be to hug the mother I never had…” Jude shook his head. “No. Just no.”

  Cope’s eyes were on Bertha while Jude let his opinion be known. It was a pretty powerful statement from Jude, but one that wasn’t holding any sway over Bertha.

  “I think that’s just about the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me, aside from Carson’s eulogy.” Bertha walked around the table to Jude, setting her hands on his shoulders.

  “I know what you’re doing, Bertha. It won’t work.” Jude was grinning despite the still angry tone in his voice.

  “I appreciate you worrying about me, but my mind is made up. If you think it will help, ask your elders to help me, Jude.”

  “That’s an interesting idea.” Carson leaned forward across the table.

  “What’s an interesting idea?” Jude looked around the table.

  “Mom wants you to ask your elders for their help.” Carson offered Jude a smile. “To guide her and keep her safe. If we have an army of light, they can help to protect Mom.”

  “Bertha says her mind is made up.” Cope squeezed their joined hands. “But that we’re free to amass whatever kind of spirit squad we can to help her out.”

  “I’m in,” Carson said.

  “Me too,” Cole added, still sounding a bit unsure.

  ‘This had better be one hell of a hug, Bertha.” Jude shook his head. “I’m in too.”

  30

  Jude

  The last place Jude expected to be going at 11:45pm, with a shovel in his trunk was to the Harmony Grove Cemetery. Yet here he was. Cope was sitting quietly in the passenger seat with a white plastic grocery bag at his feet containing a new Tupperware container. On the dashboard was a dozen pink rosebuds he’d picked up for Bertha at the local florist’s shop.

  Following behind them in the caravan were Ronan and Tennyson and another car carrying the Craig brothers, who had Dempsey and Onyx with them. Leading the macabre procession was Cisco Jackson, Salem’s Chief of Police. Sometimes it paid to know the right people. Cisco had the spotlight from the cruiser illuminating Bertha Craig’s grave.

  Jude parked the Thunderbird behind Cisco. He paused for a moment before getting out of the car. “I’m sorry if you thought I was doubting this idea when we were back at the Magick shop this morning. It’s just that Bertha means the world to me and if anything happened to her, I’d never forgive myself.”

  Cope turned to Jude. “You know, accepting help like I’ve done in the week I’ve been here hasn’t exactly been my strong suit. You’re looking at a man who abandoned all of his friends and family in New Orleans to go into hiding in Texas. I did all of that by myself. Never once in two years did I reach out to anyone back home until these psychic attacks were to the point of me thinking they were going to end my life.”

  Jude understood exactly where Copeland was coming from. He wasn’t used to accepting help from anyone else either. He’d been on his own since he was eighteen years old and it wasn’t until the last year, after he’d met Ten and Ronan, that he’d become comfortable enough to let the two of them and their friends be there for him. “I know. Let’s do this.”

  “Are you scared?” A smile curved Cope’s lips.

  “What, me scared of being in a graveyard with five minutes to go until the witching hour?” Jude shook his head. “You must have me confused with someone else.” Before Cope could answer that question, Jude grabbed the roses and popped out of the car.

  He could see Cisco Jackson standing outside his SUV. “Thank you for meeting us here, chief.”

  “Can you believe this isn’t the most bizarre request I’ve ever gotten from Ronan O’Mara?” The chief shook his head.

  Actually, Jude could believe it. Standing here now, under the light of the full moon wasn’t exactly the time to be exchanging their most hilarious Ronan stories. “Have you met Copeland Forbes yet?” He knew it wasn’t exactly fair to redirect the conversation like that, but Cope was coming toward them carrying the shovel and the Tupperware container.

  “Can’t say that I have.” Cisco held a hand out to shake with Copeland. “Cisco Jackson. It’s not every day I meet a shovel-carrying psychic in a graveyard at midnight. One of you want to clue me in here?”

  “Cope and Jude need dirt from our mother’s grave for something,” Carson said.

  “For something? You want to try being a little less vague?” Cisco rubbed a hand over the back of his neck like he had the beginnings of a tension headache.

  “The dirt is for a spell,” Cole chimed in. “Jude and Cope have our permission to do this. What’s more, they’re doing this at our mother’s urging.”

  “We called you so that if people saw us here in the graveyard they wouldn’t call the police. Having you out here with us cuts that off at the pass,” Tennyson added.

  Cisco turned to Ronan. “There’s something bad coming, isn’t there?”

  Ronan nodded. “I’ll fill you in while the others perform the ceremony.” He angled his head toward the chief’s SUV.

  “Is that little chat a good thing or a bad thing?” Cope whispered.

  “A good thing. I’m betting Ronan’s going to get him to increase patrols in our neighborhood and to be on the lookout for cars with out of state license plates.”

  Cope looked back over his shoulder at Ronan and Cisco. “He seemed pretty nonchalant about a group of psychics and witches digging up a grave in the middle of the night.”

  Jude snorted. “Cisco’s cool people. He’s engaged to the town’s resident vampire.”

  Cope’s eyes bugged out. “You’re serious. How can you be serious? Salem has a vampire? A bloodsucking, can’t go out into the sun, afraid of garlic vampire?”

  “Not all of those things are true.” There wasn’t time to fill Cope in about the chief’s man now. “When this thing is over, I’ll make sure to introduce you to Luca. Although if the shit hits the fan with your attacker after the sun goes down, he’ll be at your side fighting for you.” No one had spoken to Luca about that, but that’s the way their extended family worked. One phone call and everyone would be there. No questions asked.

  “Are we ready to begin?” Carson asked.

  There were nods all around. Jude gave Copeland’s hand a squeeze before stepping forward to lay the flowers next to Bertha’s headstone. “These are for you, beautiful.”

  “How did you know pink roses were Mom’s favorite?” Cole asked.

  “I didn’t. These blooms spoke to me at the florist’s shop.” It was true. While Jude had been sitting in the car in the parking lot, he’d asked for guidance to help pick out the perfect flowers for Bertha. To thank her for the sacrifice she was willing to make for Copeland. The little voice inside his head had led him to the pink rosebuds.

&n
bsp; Carson turned to Cope and Jude. “Copeland, do you have the payment for the offering you are about to collect?”

  “I do.” Cope reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny dime. “Thank you, Bertha.” Kissing the coin, Cope set it on top of her heart-shaped grave marker.

  When they’d gotten back from the Magick shop this morning, Copeland had emailed Jude all the information he had about the grave dirt spell. It was tradition for the person collecting the dirt to not only bring a gift for the spirit of the deceased, but to also pay for the dirt they were going to collect. One silver dime was the traditional cost.

  The other part of the ritual Jude found fascinating was that there were three main places to dig for the dirt you needed, the head, heart, or feet. Dirt that is taken from the head of the grave is used for spells that require the personality traits of the spirit to be present with you, such as wisdom, courage or strength. Dirt from the foot is required for foot-track spells, which poison the offender through their feet or for spells that lead a victim to their death. Dirt from the heart of the deceased was used for love potions, protection spells, and to reincarnate the spirit of a lost loved one. That was where Copeland would be digging.

  “Mom’s here with us, Jude. She’s thanking you for the flowers. She also says she’s ready for Copeland to begin.” Carson took a step back. Cole wrapped his arm around his brother’s back while they both watched silently.

  Cope stepped forward. He set the blade of the shovel down in the approximate spot where he thought Bertha’s heart would be at rest. “Am I close?” he whispered.

  “Mom says to take one step closer to her stone and half a step to your right.” Cole was still holding his brother tight.

  Cope brought the blade of the shovel to rest against the lush green grass covering the grave. “By the power of the goddess, bless this spot and the spirit of Bertha Craig.” Just as Cope was about to push the shovel into the ground, he felt Jude step up behind him.

  “I’m supposed to help you, aren’t I?” Jude was confused. He had no way of knowing that was the case, but something in his own heart moved him toward Copeland and the shovel.