by Sara Clancy
“She is.”
“Katrina Hamilton was human once.”
“A witch,” he corrected. “Now she’s a ghost.”
“And ghosts can be stopped.” Mina threw every ounce of determination she had into the words.
Jeremiah shrugged, “Yeah, I heard you say that once before. I still have a box.”
“Serial killers are rarely caught on the first attempt,” she shot back. “And I’m tenacious.”
“Is that what you’re going to do in the FBI, Mina? Hunt down paranormal serial killers? Is there a division for that?”
“I’ll make one.” Warmth flooded her chest when her small smile was met with one of his own.
“Okay, okay. What else have you got for me?”
She opened her own bag and produced a metal cone.
“What the hazel is that?”
“It’s my untested theory,” Mina stressed before continuing. “When I was researching, I came across this idea that the perception of ghosts is influenced by geomagnetic fields.”
“What?”
“It’s the natural magnetic fields the earth produces,” she said, watching his eyebrows rise. “Okay, bare basics. Higher geomagnetic intensity correlates with more ghost sightings. My theory is that ghosts feed off of the energy to gather power.”
He heaved the shiny cone in his hand. “And this will block it?”
“No, you can’t block the earth’s magnetic field. But you can bend it. I’m hoping that, by doing so, you’ll either weaken the ghost or disorient it. Maybe cause enough confusion to get away.”
Once more, he studied the cone skeptically.
“Iron has always been said to repel ghosts, right?” Mina asked.
“Mina,” he sighed. “You’re not the first to try iron against these things. Remember the stories? It doesn’t work all that well.”
“But I’m not trying to repel them. I’m trying to bend them. My theory is that we’ve had minimal results with iron in the past because it’s a metal that can be used to bend magnetic fields. The cone takes what was possibly functional about iron and amplifies it. At the same time, it emits its own magnetic field that will further disrupt the ghosts’ energy.”
“So, they’ll be there but wavy?”
“They’ll be there but weakened,” she said. “Theoretically, while you still might see them, they won’t be able to physically touch you.”
Jeremiah tipped the cone back and forth, studying it with hesitant interest. “How do you switch it on?”
“You don’t.”
He frowned. “Then how do you get it to work?”
“It’s a magnet, Jeremiah. It’s working right now. It should be that the cone’s presence alone will interfere with the ghosts to a certain radius.”
“Right.”
“I know it doesn’t sound like much. But, trust me, when you’re trying to sleep with only a thin tent for protection, it’ll feel like everything.”
“So, I just set it down and let it do its thing?”
“Pretty much.”
“It’s worth a shot, I suppose.”
“Just remember, I haven’t tested it yet.”
Consumed by the conversation, they paid little attention to the crowd, not noticing their parents’ approach until their father grabbed Mina’s arm and yanked her around.
“What are you doing here?”
A lifetime of obedience to her parents was a hard habit to break, even now. Mina supposed there would always be a part of her that wanted their approval above all else. Suppressing the emotion, she calmly met her father’s furious gaze.
“I came to see my brother.”
“We’ve been over this,” he growled. “You can’t be half committed to the family.”
Mina bristled. “I’ve never been anything other than dedicated.”
“Yet I can give you a long list of examples to the contrary.”
Glancing to her mother for help didn’t achieve anything.
For better or worse, they’re always a team. The dynamic had always been something Mina had revered. She’d never been on the other side. Swallowing thickly, she forced the words out of her throat.
“Disagreeing with you isn’t going against the family.”
“So you’re only against me?” her father almost taunted.
A flash of annoyance steeled her spine. “Only when you’re wrong.”
Anger twisted up her father’s mouth before he could smooth it out.
“All I’m asking is that you listen to me.” Mina pressed. “Why can’t you give me that?”
Her father’s brow darkened, but he kept his voice to a private whisper. “Mina, I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I’m asking you to prove it.” With an encouraging smile, he added, “Do what I say.”
No one who really loves you would ever use it against you. Cadwyn’s passing words flashed across Mina’s mind, bringing with it a sickly feeling to fill the pit of her stomach.
Noticing her hesitation, he tightened his grip. “Do as you’re told or leave.”
“Dad,” Jeremiah said softly. “Please, I want her here.”
Their mother shushed him with a gentle touch to his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get some food and let them speak.”
Mina caught her brother’s gaze, trying to let him know that it was okay to leave. Don’t risk getting ostracized, too, she silently told him. Not now. You need the family, now more than ever. Jeremiah took a deep breath and shifted to stand shoulder to shoulder with Mina.
“I’m not that hungry, mom,” he said. “I think I’ll stay.”
“Jeremiah,” their mother warned.
“I’m not saying she’s right about everything. It’s just that, if we all have to live by these family rules, shouldn’t we all have a say in what they are?”
“This isn’t a democracy,” their mother said.
Jeremiah’s brow furrowed. “It’s a family.”
“It’s a kingship,” Mina corrected. “Yeah, I didn’t know either until someone pointed it out. Mom and Dad are the queen and king of the Crane family. Congrats, you’re a prince.”
Jeremiah stared at each of them in disbelief before he began to mutter about the insanity of it all. Mina hadn’t taken the news much better when she had learned about the hierarchical dynamics of the family. But a lifetime of being shielded and pampered leads to a certain degree of naivety. She’d been blind to how deep the Witch had affected them. Battling a murderous evil for centuries had led the four families to cling to what they knew. Mostly, that meant a very strict dynamic, one that didn’t work well in her favor as an eighteen-year-old female.
“Our ways have seen us through this danger for generations,” their mother said.
“That’s easy for you to say when you’re not a Crane by blood,” Mina said.
The harsh words caught them all off guard. Guilt gnawed at Mina’s stomach like a wild animal. A childhood need to please screamed at her to take it back, make it better, be the good little girl she was expected to be.
“I love you, Mom, you know I do, but this doesn’t concern you,” Mina forced herself to say.
“I’m not part of this family now?”
“You married in. No matter what happens, you’ll never be on Katrina’s list—”
Her sentence broke into a pained gasp as her father’s hand crushed her arm.
“You will not say that name,” he snarled.
“I will,” Mina said with a matching ferocity. “Nothing will ever change if we keep making her into the boogieman. We need to educate our children, not scare them with campfire stories and myths.”
“When you have your own children, you’ll understand why things are the way they are,” her mother said smoothly.
Mina glanced between her parents. “You know, I’m thinking of not having any kids.”
Her mother scoffed, and her father’s grip loosened slightly.
“Do you see now?” he asked his wife.
“I told you that nothing good would come from spoiling her.”
Her mother nodded, “You were right.”
“I think we can both agree that this has gone far enough.”
She nodded again, and their father turned back to his children.
“Willimina, I am your father. And, as such, I think you owe me some respect.”
“I do respect you.”
“Good. I’ve arranged for you to meet with the son of a coworker. He’s handsome enough, from good stock, intelligent, and has a promising career in a private law practice in Los Angeles.”
“I don’t understand,” Mina stammered, refusing to follow his line of thought.
“You’re on the wrong track.”
“I’m in the top three percent in all of my classes,” Mina cut in. “I’m already on track for law review and have begun to build the reputation and connections necessary to ensure my acceptance and success in med school. And Mrs. Davis has introduced me to a friend of hers in the FBI, so I’m already networking. Dad, I’m on track to the FBI. How is that the ‘wrong track’?”
“You have a more important destiny before you.”
“Getting married and having kids?”
“You are my daughter,” he snapped. “The women of the family look to you for how to act. You need to set a better example.”
“Highly educated and dedicated to law enforcement is a bad example?”
“Running off from the family. Disobedience. Scaring the children—”
“Teaching them survival skills that you should have taught them by now,” Mina cut in.
“Relying on another of the four families for financial aid.”
“I am not!”
“So you’re not living off of Ozzie’s money.”
Mina clenched her jaw until it hurt. “I have a free ride at Penn State. I earned that. You were the one who insisted I live with the cousins. You were the one who insisted I shouldn’t get a job so I could focus on my studies. And you were the one who had them kick me out. Was I supposed to be homeless? No, that’s right. I was supposed to come running back to you, wasn’t I?”
“What did you do to get Ozzie to buy you a house?”
Rage drew Mina up to full height, as minimal as it was. Not that her father was a towering man.
“We survived the Witch Woods together. You wouldn’t know what kind of bond that forges.”
She had never seen the level of fury that now settled upon her father’s face. His hand tightened, crushing her arm, digging his nails through the layer of her thin denim jacket.
“How dare—”
His words were cut off by a sudden, joyous scream. “Which one of you morons is gonna die?”
Chapter 5
It seemed that all eyes locked onto her. Not that it could dampen Basheba’s mood. Nothing could right now. Everything was happening earlier than the norm. Katrina usually at least waited for nightfall to make her selections. But the website for the four families had sent her an alert. A Bell had received a box, and it wasn’t her. My uncle or my cousin? They were equally delightful options. She tingled with excitement, absolutely giddy, and fought the urge to spin around like she was singing in a green mountain meadow. Buck still bounced around her feet, yelping with delight.
“Oh, come on,” Basheba laughed when no one answered her. “I deliberately didn’t check for the name so this would be a surprise. Tell me, tell me, tell me!”
“People may die, Basheba,” someone in the crowd said sharply.
She stopped her pleading long enough to roll her eyes, “Oh, how completely unexpected for this time of year.”
“Is it possible for you to show even an ounce of respect?” a Crane family woman sneered. An agreeing murmur washed over the crowd.
“Elizabeth, last year, when it was my head on the chopping block, you got completely hammered and did a striptease with a volleyball net,” Basheba said, her voice hovering perfectly between threatening and dismissive. “Call me crazy, but I’m not going to come to you for advice on respectful behavior.”
One of the many Zachariahs that filled the family trees stalked forward. His mouth was set in a grim line even as he glanced at the people around him with barely concealed amusement. It was an obvious ‘step back and watch how it’s done’ kind of look, annoyingly similar to her uncle’s neutral expression.
“I think it’s time that you and I have a heart-to-heart, Basheba.”
“Can you give me a moment to check on the fire extinguishers first?”
Basheba had to search for Mina in the crowd before she could believe that the preppy princess had actually spouted off. Chuckling, Basheba perched on a picnic table, her feet on the seat and Buck by her feet. With a whistle, the massive Rottweiler ran off to fetch her a beer. He was back with the bottle before she had time to get comfortable.
“I was talking to you,” Zachariah said.
“Well, that explains my crushing boredom,” Basheba said while using the edge of the table to pop off the bottle cap.
Red splotches formed on his neck. “Now, you listen to me—”
“Oh, dear Lord in heaven,” Basheba flopped dramatically. Holding up one finger, she took a few mouthfuls of her drink before continuing. “Zach, I lack the vocabulary needed to adequately express how little I care about you and your opinion.”
Clearly not used to being dismissed or interrupted, Zachariah bristled. “It’s about time someone educated you, little girl.”
“I get it. You want to show off for your family,” Basheba replied. “The problem is, I am physically incapable of acting dumb enough for you to look smart by comparison.”
“You bitch.”
“Sticks and stones will break my bones, but first you have to throw ‘em,” Basheba muttered into her beer bottle. “Look, you’re boring me now. So, I’m just going to ignore you and look over in this direction.” She swiveled barely an inch to the left. It seemed more insulting that way. Before he could sputter a response through his anger, Basheba smiled. “Oh, hey, Mina. Are you here to help them beat morals and virtue into me?”
“No. I’m trying this new thing where I don’t relentlessly pursue lost causes.”
Basheba took a sip from her bottle. “What are you gonna do with all your free time?” Before she could come up with a response, Basheba’s attention shifted to the man standing beside Mina. They had the same tawny skin, dark hair, and doe eyes. A Filipino influence they inherited from their mother. Her brother. “You’re Jeremiah, right?”
The boy nodded
Basheba saluted him with the bottle. “My condolences with the sucky path your life has taken.”
Jeremiah’s gaze shifted to Mina before answering, “Thanks.”
Letting her excitement take over once more, she leaned forward, “Do you know which Bell is going in with you?”
Again, Jeremiah looked to his sister for guidance, as if she was some kind of expert on the ways of Basheba Bell. Taking another sip of the beer, she tried to decide if she should be insulted or fascinated by this development.
Basheba watched the siblings have a conversation by looks alone. It wasn’t that she thought she’d figure out what they were thinking. She just wanted to exploit the excuse to purposefully ignore everyone else who was still watching her. Noting the metal in Jeremiah’s hand, she asked,
“Hey, what’s with the cone?”
A murmur went through the crowd, drawing her attention back just in time to see her cousin working her way to the table. Basheba grinned.
“Who got it?”
Claudia lifted her chin. “I was selected. I suppose you have something horrid to say to me about it.”
“You?” Basheba clarified.
“Me.”
A fit of giggles bubbled out of Basheba’s throat. “Oh, you’re so going to die!”
“How can you say that to me?” Claudia asked, her arms wrapping tightly around her slightly chubby frame.
“You just acknowledged I wasn’t going to
be pleasant.”
“But how can you be so cruel?”
Basheba choked on her beer as she laughed. “Oh, good Lord, you’re serious! That’s hilarious, Claudia. Or are you just too stupid to realize why I don’t like you? Hmm, that’s a hard call to make.”
“I’ve never done anything to you,” Claudia insisted.
Basheba’s eyebrows jumped toward her hairline. “Say again.”
“Name one time when I have ever tried to hurt you.”
Leaning her weight back on one hand, Basheba shook her head in astonishment.
“If you know someone’s getting steadily poisoned over the years, and you do nothing, you’re not an innocent bystander. You’re a participant.”
“No one ever tried to—”
“You knew what your daddy was up to,” Basheba cut in, her flash of rage simmering down quickly. With a sickly-sweet smile, she continued. “You were happy to sit back and let everyone else be led to the slaughterhouse in your place. What’s wrong? Is Katrina not playing anymore?
“Don’t call her by name,” Claudia hissed on a low breath.
Basheba ignored her. “I’m guessing she’s pretty upset with Daddy right now, huh?”
Her smile grew as Claudia tightened her grip around herself. Neither of them vocally acknowledged who was responsible for Isaac’s current failure, but Basheba preened all the same. He had promised to deliver Basheba and the others to the cult. It still baffled her that one man could be so delusional. And now he’s facing the consequences.
Ignoring the murmured reprimands of their audience, she lifted her bottle to Claudia in a toast.
“To Claudia. May you get everything you deserve.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Claudia said on a breath.
“Well, aren’t you bright. Picking up on all that nuance,” Basheba chuckled.
“You’re truly evil.”
“And yet I’ve never made a pact with a witch,” Basheba mused. “Guess I’m ahead of the game.”
“Pact?” someone asked, the question provoking a low rumble to course through the crowd.
Claudia swiftly turned to reassure them. Basheba’s interest wandered back to Mina and her brother. What is with that cone?
