Once again, I thought I saw the two men exchange a guarded look, but it was done so swiftly I couldn’t really be sure. Then Graft cleared his throat.
“Well, there are some isolated cases, but very rarely. That would be more Satanism than Voodoo.”
“But it has been done?”
“As I said, in very rare instances.” He pushed his glasses farther up on his nose. “I must say, Ms. Hawkes, I’m impressed with your knowledge on the subject. Neither Professor Morrow nor I had any idea you were so well versed.”
I waved my hand carelessly. “There’s much I don’t know, Professors. I look forward to learning a great deal from you.”
“Oh, yes.” Graft fixed me with a burning stare. “If all this interests you, Ms. Hawkes, this is the job for you. You’ll learn a lot, trust me.”
I licked at my lips. “I hope to. What I’d really like to get into is ancient incantations. Are there any books in your library containing obscure, ancient spells. Maybe little known ones?”
I was certain Morrow slid Graft a guarded look, but then he turned to me and smiled. “Well, not that we’re aware, but good research can always uncover something new.”
“True.” I rose, smoothed out my jacket. “Tell me, was your prior assistant as full of questions as I am?”
“Florrie?” Graft gave a short laugh. “There were times she fancied she knew more than we did. In all honesty, she was a rather difficult student—questioned everything.”
“I would think that quality would make a brilliant student.”
“It all depends. She was pigheaded, often not willing to listen to reason. Not broad-minded at all.” Graft picked up a pen, twirled it between his fingers. “Quite frankly, it’s a blessing she’s left the University. Much better for all of us, trust me.”
I rose. “I have a class in twenty minutes, but I’ll try to get these notes back to you this afternoon.” I glanced at Morrow. “Do you have any notes that you need transcribed, Professor?”
“Not at the moment,” he said shortly.
There was a brief period of silence, broken by Graft saying, “I have complete faith in you, my dear Ms. Hawkes. I think we’ll all get on just fine.”
***
After my first class was over, I found a quiet corner in the study hall and pulled out Graft’s notes. I was halfway through them when I sensed a presence behind me. I raised my head and saw Dru peering over my shoulder. She wrinkled her nose and plopped down next to me.
“Odic Force again? Those must be Graft’s notes—looks like his squirrely handwriting. So, how’d you like him?”
“Intense.” I shuffled through the notes. “You’re right about the handwriting. He should have gone to med school. I can’t wait to see what Morrow’s penmanship is like.”
Dru chuckled. “Florrie said pretty much the same thing. Oh, well, Morgan. Just yes them to death and you should do fine,” she sighed. “I wish Florrie had. She might still be here. I miss her.”
“I wish she were here, too,” I said. “I’d love to ask her some questions about all this.” I held up one sheet. “Life forces, magickal energy—Graft tries to tie them all together into one neat package, but something doesn’t ring true to me.”
“Yeah, well, don’t question him. Florrie made that mistake.” She lowered her voice. “You know, I—I lied to you. When you asked me about the book.”
I touched her arm. “You did? Why, Dru. I only want to help.”
“I know,” the girl bit her lip. “It’s just—well, someone broke in looking for it a few weeks ago. Florrie got real upset.”
I sucked in my breath. “So the book’s gone?”
She shook her head. “No. Florrie had it well hidden. When she gave it to me for safekeeping, she made me promise to tell no one. And she meant no one. But—“ she took a breath. “I can trust you, Morgan. I know Florrie would, too. She told me there was something in the book that would mean something terrible if the wrong person got their hands on it. At the time I thought she was exaggerating, but—“ she gave a nervous laugh. “now I’m not so sure.”
“Dru. Do you know where the book is?”
“Yes.” She lowered her voice, looked cautiously around, then took my arm, pulled me into an alcove. “I’m sorry. It’s sometimes I just think even the walls have ears in this place. The book is where no one would ever find it. If you’d like to come to my dorm room, I’ll show it to you.”
Huzza. A break. “I would. Lead the way.”
As we moved out of the alcove, I felt an odd tingle at the base of my spine. I turned and saw Gene Morrow standing at the end of the corridor, his beady gaze fixed directly on Dru. He turned his head, and for a moment our eyes met. I felt a chill, like a hand from the grave, caress my spine, before he whirled on his heel and disappeared down the corridor.
Dru’s dorm room was small, but the girl had managed to make it a cheerful space. The walls were a light pink, and the bed had a pretty rose comforter spread over it. A laptop and printer rested on a small table near the window, and sandwiched in a small nook by the bathroom was an oak bookcase. Dru paused before it, rested her hand on one shelf.
“Florrie always said, if you want to hide something real good, do it in plain sight.”
Dru bent down, moved some paperbacks, and pulled out a large volume marked Keats’s Thesaurus. She held it up.
“She also said, never judge a book by its cover.”
Dru opened the book. I leaned over her shoulder and stifled a gasp. The entire book was hollowed out, and in the deep cavity sat a small, well-worn leather book which Dru extracted and handed to me.
I turned the book over in my hand. The gold lettering on the leather cover was embossed and faded, but still able to be made out.
ANCIENT SPELLS AND LORE OF MAGICK
“She got really into it,” Dru remarked as I fingered the gilt-edged pages. “She pored over it every night—see all those dog-eared pages.”
I flipped to one. It was a page covered with Wiccan symbols.
Dru leaned over my shoulder. “Ah, there’s two stars. That’s what she was talking about. See,” she pointed. “This is the eight-pointed Wiccan star. But over here’s another.”
I stared at the crudely drawn star with its seven points, and the notation below it. Magickal Energy.
“Hm,” said Dru. “Looks like they were both right. I wonder why Florrie was so upset?”
“Maybe she wasn’t upset about the actual drawings as much as the context they were used in,” I suggested.
“It could be,” Dru snapped her fingers. “I remember the conversation, now. She was upset because she saw Graft using the Wiccan symbol for magic for Odic Force, because he referenced some voodoo spirit with it. The two didn’t mesh, she said, because you couldn’t use a Wiccan symbol to relate to an evil looha.”
My neck snapped up. “A looha? Think carefully, Dru. Could she have said lwa?”
Dru scrunched her forehead in thought. “Maybe. You know, I think—yes. She said lwa. Do you know what it means?”
“It’s a voodoo term for supernatural, immortal spirits. Voodoo devotees serve the lwa, provide offerings in exchange for services. As with anything else, there are good and bad.”
Dru spread her hands. “I guess it would make sense, huh? I mean, considering Graft’s specialty is voodoo, and all. I didn’t realize Florrie was so into that, too. But, I guess it’d be impossible not to pick up something when you type all those notes, right?”
“Yes,” I agreed. I held up the book. “Dru, would you mind if I borrowed this? I’d like to look it over. Maybe—maybe some of the stuff in here will help me understand Graft’s notes.”
She hesitated, shook her head. “No—if you think it’ll help you, go ahead. Just don’t—don’t let Morrow or Graft know you have it.”
“I won’t.”
She balled her hand into a fist. “You know, they both treated Florrie like dirt. They drove her from here. I’d like to—“ She balled her hand into
a fist. “I’d like to kill them. Both of them.”
I put my hand on her shoulder. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” she spat. “If either one were right here before me, right now, I’d kill him. I would. With my bare hands.”
I shook my head. “You don’t mean that.”
“I don’t know if I do or not.” She raked both hands through her tumble of brown hair. “Sometimes, I get—filled with this horrible, black rage. I feel as if I could do terrible things.”
I remembered the scene on the steps and slipped an arm around her. “But you don’t.”
“No,” she shook her head, “I don’t. But I could, and it scares me.” Her fingers reached out, caressed the book cover. “One favor—will you get it back to me when you’re done with it? It’s like the only thing I have left to remind me of her. I know it’s an odd keepsake, but—it’s all I have.”
And all you’ll ever have, unfortunately. “Sure. I’ll see you get it back. And thanks.”
Chapter 20
“Okay, now just enlighten me again. What are we looking for, exactly? And we can’t eat dessert till we find it?”
Darla’s book was open on my dining room table. I’d gone up to the attic, and found, buried far back behind the cobwebs, a box I’d shoved there years ago and had sworn never to open. However, these were desperate times, and those times called for desperate measures. Only an emergency would have made me dig out all that remained of my father, Alistair Hawkes.
Xia had prepared a light supper, soup and salad, and I’d invited Cole for dinner. Once we’d finished eating, I set everything on the table. At Xia’s question, I put my hands on my hips and faced the two of them.
“We’re looking for any references to energy, magickal or otherwise, or anything to do with blood, or just anything that might seem out of the ordinary. Xia, you take Darla’s book. Cole, you can help me go through my father’s papers. And that’s right—no dessert until we find something.”
“What if we find nothing?” Cole inquired. “Are we to be deprived of Xia’s Baked Alaska, which by all accounts, is to die for?”
I gave him a look. “We’ll find something. Somewhere, in all this, is the key. I know it—I feel it.”
Xia nodded and tapped her breastbone. “You know, I do too.”
“Well,” Cole rolled up his shirtsleeves. “Let’s get started. I have faith in Xia’s advanced witch’s psyche.”
“Oh, ho, and not in mine?”
He trailed one long finger up my arm. “I have faith in yours, too, my dear.”
I lowered my head, hoping the rush of blood to my cheeks at his touch wasn’t too noticeable. I must have failed, though, because out of the corner of my eye I saw Xia grin broadly.
“Okay,” she clapped her hands. “Let’s get busy. The sooner we find something—the sooner the two of you can get to your dessert.”
She gave me a wicked smile I just wanted to slap right off her face. “Let’s get to it.”
Cole picked up a notebook, flipped it open. “By all means.” He rested his black gaze on me. “I’m so looking forward to dessert.”
Yum.
“Well, here’s something,” Cole said. He held the notebook out. “See this drawing there?”
We all leaned forward to look. It was a crude replica of the seven-pointed star, all right.
“So, Daddy was acquainted with Magickal Energy and Odic Force, too. What a shame Graft’s concept isn’t original. How I’d love to tell him,” I spat.
Cole pointed to the word scrawled next to the star. “Looks like Agua,” he said.
Xia looked up. “The Spanish word for water? Why would your father have written water next to that particular symbol?”
I shrugged. “Who knows why my father did a lot of things,” I grumbled. “Water is energy, though. Maybe water has something to do with it?”
“This whole thing is like a jigsaw puzzle,” Xia said. “We have lots of pieces, but none of them fit just right.”
“Well, it’s our job to make sure they get into their proper place.”
We continued flipping pages. Suddenly Xia gave a little cry. She thrust the book in front of me. “Look at this,” she commanded.
I took the book. Cole got up, came around the table to look over one shoulder, while Xia peered over the other. I read aloud:
Blood Spell
These 7 points must be followed to release the blood spirit:
The eye - to see
The nose – to smell
The hand – to touch
The tongue – to speak
The ear – to hear
The breast – to nurture
The heart – to live
These are the 7 points of life—to release the power of the blood daemon, the blood of seven pure witches must be spilled. The parts must be taken from the seven witches, gathered into one pot, and burned at the base of the blood daemon, or god’s, familiar on a night when the power of the moon is in focus. Then, and only then, will the blood god’s powers flow through the energized state into the body of the offeror, or worshipper. Then they will achieve karma, or oneness with the god. They will become the god, with all the privileges and powers therein.
This chant must be said for maximum effect:
Ago santiwbe effigo.
Ago inundo akimo.
E suhabi inholani
E mambo, e boko, Suhara
I set the volume down. “I’ve seen a lot of spells in my time, white and black, and I’ve never seen one like this.”
“It must be very obscure and ancient.” Xia wrinkled her nose. “Darla was into that.”
Cole tapped the page. “This chant at the bottom isn’t a Satanic chant, either.”
I’d recognized some of the words, and I nodded. “You’re right. It’s a Haitian chant. Usually used to summon a voodoo lwa, or god.”
“Is that what someone is trying to do?” Xia asked, eyes round. “Summon a voodoo blood god? Are there any?”
“There are quite a few lwa gods,” I replied. “But offhand, I don’t know of any ones connected to blood, specifically. Not Marinette, I know that.”
Cole tapped the notebook. “What about this notation of your father’s? Are there any lwa’s connected to water?”
I frowned. “You think he’s trying to summon a water lwa with a blood spell?”
He stretched his long legs out in front of him. “Have you got any other ideas?”
I shook my head. “Not at the moment, no.” I pressed my hand to my temple and I heard them again, stronger than ever.
Ago angajan asogwe. Lughnasadh.
And Darla’s voice, as clear as if she were in the room with me:
It’s inflection. You’ll figure it out.
I combed my hands through my already unruly mass of hair. “It’s inflection, inflection,” I muttered. “What does she mean?”
“Inflection?” Xia frowned. “Do you mean infection? A disease of some sort?”
I shook my head. “No, no, Darla said inflection. I know it.”
Xia looked puzzled. “Darla?”
“In my dream. When the dead spoke to me, whenever they could break through the barrier the killer’s put up, they try to help me, give me clues. Only they make no sense—or do they?” I muttered, whirled on Cole. “What’s an inflection?”
He shrugged. “Basically, it’s an intonation, a variation. Different people can pronounce the same word a variety of ways, depending on where they’re brought up.”
“Oh,” Xia’s face brightened, “I get it. It’s like the old song, right? You say tomato, I say to-matto…”
“Right.” I pulled a book out of the box, started flipping the pages. “Some say ah-go, when what we should be saying is—“ I stopped, tapped the page triumphantly. “ah-gaw. Darla was right. It’s all in the inflection.”
Xia turned her puzzled stare on me. “You are going to explain, right? Because neither Cole nor I have the faintest idea what you mean.”
“The Wiccan symbols for storm and fire,” Xia said. “I don’t get it.”
“It’s simple,” I responded. “Agau.”
Cole and Xia looked at each other, then at me. “Huh?” Cole said. “Don’t you mean Agua?”
“No, no, no,” I pounded my fist on the table. “Don’t you two see? It’s all in the inflection.”
Xia pressed her hand against her temple. “Okay, it’s official. You’ve been working too hard, and you’ve finally gone mad. I’m making a recommendation to Cole they take you off this case.”
I resumed pulling books out of the box. “It’s a memory, vague at best, but viable,” I muttered. “One thing I do remember about my father—he was painstaking in his research. And I do recall one night, him telling me a bedtime story about a lwa god certain Satanic cults also worshipped as a daemon. The lore was so close. So close.”
Xia and Cole exchanged glances. “She is going to explain what she means soon, right?” Xia said. “Or I’m going to have to break my Wiccan rule and hurt her. Terribly.”
Cole clucked his tongue. “I agree. If those are the type of bedtime stories you had to listen to, Morgan, it explains a lot.”
“Yeah, yeah--Aha!” I held up a scarred, black and white notebook. The words, DAEMON GODS were scrawled across the front. “Found it. I knew it had to be in here somewhere.” I started leafing through the pages, uttered a cry of triumph. “Holy Zeus! Here it is.”
Cole expelled a breath. “Here what is?”
I cradled the notebook against my chest. “The key to the mystery—part of it, anyway. At least I hope it is. Sit back, both of you, and listen.
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