by Catie Rhodes
Cecil’s lips parted, and his eyes glazed with shock. I didn’t know anything to do but tell the rest.
“Mysti says magic has a signature.” I swallowed hard. Moment of truth. “The signature on the spell matched mine very closely. Someone in my family must have put it on me.”
Cecil sat so still the only sign of life was his chest moving up and down. The silence sent cold fingers crawling up my back. The cord of tension in the back of my neck pulled even tighter, heating into a headache. I rubbed at it and closed my eyes.
Cecil stood and opened a cabinet over my head. He took out a cracked and battered photo album and stared at Finn until he vacated the couch. Zora maneuvered so she could continue to sit next to me. Cecil sat on the other side of the child and opened the photo album. “I think it’s time I give you a little family history.”
He turned page after page and stopped at a picture. It showed two young women with an older woman standing between them, her arms around both. I saw a lot of Priscilla Herrera in the older woman’s face.
“This is Samantha?” I tapped the older woman’s image.
Cecil smiled. “You know of her?”
I nodded. “I saw her in a vision, but she was young, a teenager or thereabouts. She looks like her mother, Priscilla Herrera. And I’ve seen Priscilla quite a few times.”
Cecil paled a bit. “Samantha was my grandmother. Your great-great-grandmother. Samantha used to tell me that her mother, Priscilla, was the scariest person she ever met.”
Priscilla scared the hell out of me. I could only imagine what kind of mother she was.
Cecil tapped the Samantha’s face. “Samantha practiced the old ways her entire life, but she never took on the center of our family’s power. She always said the power chose its heir, and she simply wasn’t meant for it.” Cecil tapped the two young women next to Samantha. “Samantha never married, but she had two daughters, Iris and Fern. Samantha taught both her daughters the old ways.” He tapped one of the young women’s faces. “Iris was my mother. Your great-grandmother. She had little success with the old ways. Didn’t have the patience for it, but she was a good spirit medium.”
I leaned close, taking in the shape of Iris’s face, the tilt of her head. So this was Memaw’s mother. She had Memaw’s smile, her dark eyes, and tiny stature.
Cecil tapped the other young woman in the picture. “This is Samantha’s other daughter, Fern. She was my aunt, so she’d have been your great-great-aunt. Fern had a bit more success with spell making than did Iris.”
I shifted in my seat. All this history was great. Just the kind of stuff I wanted to know. But not right now. Right now, getting this spell reversed was top priority.
Ignoring my impatience, Cecil turned another page in the album. It showed Fern sitting at a table with a mess of ingredients and a mortar and pestle in front of her.
He tapped the picture. “Fern had more success with witchcraft than Iris but not quite as much as Samantha. Even so, Fern expected to take on the center of our family’s power since Samantha never did.” He paused for several long seconds. “Fern is the one who put the spell on you. I suspect Fern did it to keep you from the center of our family’s power so she could have it.”
I stared at the woman in the picture, at the cold cunning in her dark eyes. I couldn’t put all the blame on her. Someone let her put a spell on me, and there were only a few people who could’ve done it. “Who let her do this to me?”
Cecil bowed his head and spoke to his lap. “My sweet, misguided sister Leticia.”
Memaw. The knowledge punched into my chest where it lay coiled tight, ready to strike and inject poison into my emotions. My mouth went dry. I’d loved my grandmother, loved her with all my heart, but she had taught me to hate what I was. The teaching went so deep I didn’t think I’d ever let it go. I didn’t quite know what to do with the hurt.
The lines on Cecil’s face deepened as he watched me process the information. “Leticia believed our family was cursed. She didn’t want any of her kids to be the marked one.”
“Marked? How?” I touched my black opal pendant for comfort.
“Legend said that the one who’d hold the center of our family’s power would be visited by ravens on the day of his or her birth.” Cecil watched me.
I put my face in my hands. Memaw had said the ravens showed up as soon as I did. She’d known my destiny, always known, but had denied it when she could have helped me. My head swam with the knowledge. I took deep breaths until I had control of myself and faced Cecil. Might as well hear the rest of it.
“Leticia brought you to us when you were just a baby, all upset.” He smiled as he told the story, perhaps remembering Memaw in full-on panic mode. “Samantha, my grandmother, was long dead by the time you were born. She’d have told Leticia to suck it up. But Aunt Fern promised to make it so the power would never manifest in you. Leticia agreed before Fern even finished speaking.”
The chili in my stomach turned into a ball of flaming acid. I dug for my roll of antacids Screwed again by Memaw and her panic about what I was. I ground an antacid between my teeth. Cecil watched with downturned lips.
Cecil closed his eyes and shook his head. “Someone should have stopped Fern. What she wanted to do was impossible. Like trying to take the stripes off a tiger. But everybody feared her, and so it went on.”
“Can the spell be undone?” I hated to ask. Cecil might tell me I was stuck with it.
“Maybe.” Cecil’s crooked hands played over the photo album. “Right before your father died, he contacted me and asked if Fern would be willing to train you in the ways of magic.”
“The day he died, he told me we were coming to live with y’all.” My voice shook.
Cecil nodded without looking at me. “By that time, Fern had accepted that the center of our family’s power, the mantle, wasn’t meant for her. She agreed to get you ready for your destiny. But she said an odd thing. She said you wouldn’t be the same kid once she removed the spell, that you’d have to be rebuilt from scratch.”
The words scrabbled through my brain, mysterious and dangerous. The Coachman had used my memories against me. I could only guess Fern meant that removing the spell would remove my memories of all that I was. The idea scared me almost as bad as the Coachman worming his way into me and taking over. Either way, I’d lose myself.
Cecil’s voice bored into my thoughts. “Unfortunately, whatever Fern intended to do to to you is lost. Fern’s eldest daughter left Sanctuary after her mother’s death and took the family spell book. None of us have seen her since.” Cecil paused, eyes narrowed, obviously still irritated at whatever had happened.
Panic expanded in my chest. I might as well have been on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean. There was no help for me. The Coachman would have me.
Cecil gripped my hand, using his thumb to caress the back of it. “There must be another way. You’ll find it when the time is right.”
I wanted to scream. The problems with the Coachman were happening right now. I didn’t have time to figure things out.
Finn’s cellphone began ringing. He glanced at the caller ID and spoke to Cecil. “Kenny. Probably calling to ask when we’re getting Peri Jean out of here.”
Cecil’s eyes went flat. I would have bet anything this was how he looked when he taunted Griff over the phone. “You tell Kenny to mind his own business. He ain’t the leader of Sanctuary. I am.”
Finn walked outside and answered the call, letting in a blast of chilly air.
Cecil put his arm around me. “Don’t worry about the spell. If it takes all of us to get the Coachman to leave you alone, we’ll do it. Then you can figure out what to do about the spell.”
“Papaw’s right.” Jadine found my arm and squeezed it.
“Yeah. We’re the Greggs…” Dillon's mouth quirked into a grin.
“Or the Gregsons. Maybe the Gregorys. Sometimes the Goyos. Occasionally the Griers.” Cecil smiled at her.
The two of them
said together, “No matter what, we take care of each other.”
I had a feeling their help would be like throwing a glass of water on a raging inferno, but my chest tightened in response to their kindness. They’d help me just because we were family. I’d missed that so much during the months since Memaw died.
Finn burst back inside. “Papaw, we’ve had a change of plans. Those folks from Ohio, the Hollingsworths? They’re leaving first thing in the morning.”
6
“YOU ARE SHITTING ME.” Cecil’s voice raised from its paper-thin croon to a nasty shout. “Damn it. It’s now or never. You take Peri Jean back to her car.” He turned to me. “Sweetheart, I want you to come back real soon. Kenny will just have to—”
“Let her help.” Finn stepped into the motor home and closed the door. “We been talking ’bout bringing her in since Livingston.”
“You know I like to discuss big decisions with Shelly. I’m sure as hell not calling my wife while she’s in New Mexico with her latest grandbaby.” Cecil frowned. “Besides, Kenny’s just looking for reasons to undermine my authority. If something were to go wrong…” Cecil shook his head and tucked the photo album into the cabinet above the couch.
Dillon crowded next to Cecil, standing on her tiptoes to get into his face. “But we let him bring Danielle the pickpocket in. Look at all the trouble she caused, and none of us said boo.”
Cecil took a deep breath and let it out. He pushed her out of his way and headed for the door.
Finn blocked his exit. “You keep saying this community is dying. Peri Jean makes us one more strong, and I want to bring her in. Now. Tonight.”
Someone else banged on the door. Cecil motioned at Finn to answer.
A guy with shoulder-length blond hair and an untrimmed beard leaned in. He made a face when he saw me. “This little gal still here? I thought we had an agreement, Cecil. One hour. No more.”
This must have been Kenny. He looked like an aging rock star wannabe who was lucky now to get his dick hard once a month.
Cecil stiffened. “My niece is going to help us with the Hollingsworths. We’re bringing her in.”
Wait a minute, I wanted to say. I hadn’t agreed to anything. But I would no more refute Cecil’s claim than I would have Memaw’s. Doing so would humiliate the old man, probably end his willingness to help me get rid of the Coachman.
“You can’t just make decisions like that.” Kenny stuck out his jaw.
“Can’t I? Are you now the leader of Sanctuary?” Cecil stood up straight, fury crackling off him. He turned from Kenny and spoke to me. “You in?”
Blood pounded in my ears. How did I get into this mess? I glanced at Finn and Dillon. Both gave encouraging smiles. They wanted me here. It was enough. I stared down Kenny. “I’m in.”
“We gonna talk about this soon, old man.” Kenny slammed the door hard enough to rock the RV.
The relief of making a decision made me lightheaded. Memaw was probably turning over in her grave. Her intentions for me had always been good, but they were skewed by her own prejudices and fears. I had to learn how to live my own life.
“It’s settled.” Finn’s dark eyes gleamed. “You explain to her what her part is, and we’ll get set up.”
I ended up seated between Jadine and Cecil, Zora’s butt planted firmly in my lap. At least she hadn’t said anything else weird. After hearing Cecil’s explanation of the crime we were about to engage in, I wanted to bolt. My Godzilla pride kept me seated. The plan was for Cecil to keep these folks distracted while Finn and Dillon extracted their personal information from their computer, which they’d then sell in an auction.
Dillon and Finn’s son, Zander, hid on the other side of Cecil, stealing peeks at me from around him. A thick, middle-aged woman appeared behind the little boy and tapped his shoulder. He spun around. She gave him a solemn wave, and he threw himself on her legs, laughing. She hoisted him onto her hip and came to stand in front of me. She stuck out one broad hand. “I’m Danielle.”
I set Zora on the ground and stood to shake Danielle’s hand. Her solid fingers curled around my hand like iron bands. She pumped my arm hard enough to pull on my shoulder. Her energy met mine for a brief second, and the black opal heated in response. What is she? In the shadowy firelight, I couldn’t tell much about Danielle other than she had a broad face to match her body. Her gaze bored into my skin, direct and unafraid, but I couldn’t even see her eye color.
“I look forward to getting to know you.” She smiled, revealing blocky, straight teeth. “Maybe sharing some tricks of the trade. I’m a medium as well.”
“I’d love to.” I returned her smile and sat back down. Zora wandered around the fire, head bowed, eyes on the ground. I let her be. Danielle picked up Zander and toted the little boy to a log sawed flat on top to make a bench. She sat down and rocked him. The little boy leaned his head on her shoulder and gazed into the darkness with droopy eyes. I’d bet he’d be asleep before long.
Jadine leaned over to speak in my ear. “Danielle ain’t been with us long. She’s the one Kenny insisted on bringing in. She’s a pickpocket. Like to’ve got us in deep shit in Florida. Keep your eyes and ears open.”
“And report to us,” Cecil muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
Zora wandered over, holding something between her thumb and forefinger. As she came closer, I saw it was a dead bird.
I leapt to my feet. Dillon would kill me. “Baby, let’s put that dead thing down.”
“But I can help it.” Zora’s whine set off an alarm in my head. I didn’t know a lot about kids, but I knew the sound of a tantrum on the horizon. Zora’s age put her smack-dab in screaming, fit-pulling country. I looked to Cecil for help.
Cecil appeared next to me and leaned over Zora. “Don’t you dare. Not now.”
Does she play with dead animals often? Gross. I wiped my hands on my pants.
Zora stood her ground, the dead bird’s leg pinched between her thumb and forefinger. Cecil and the little girl locked eyes. Her lip trembled. The bird slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground. She turned to me and held out her arms.
Hell, no. She’s just been playing with dead shit. Cringing, I picked her up and hoisted her onto my hip. Cecil got the dead bird and took it out of the circle. I took Zora back to sit down.
Cecil joined us. “Never when outsiders can see. Understand?”
What does he mean by that?
Zora nodded, lip still stuck out. Feeling sorry for the kid, I rubbed her back and smiled at her. She perked up a little. “Remember when you worked at the dollar store and that man tried to rob it? And you threw a plate at him?”
My mouth fell open, and my brain went on overload. Sure, I remembered that. But it was a long time ago, a time I didn’t contemplate much. My ex-husband and I had just gone our separate ways. I worked at a dollar store and shared a seedy apartment with a near stranger. I’d never told anybody about that time in my life. How does Zora know about this? I stared into her brown eyes and opened my mouth to say something, I didn't even know what, when Cecil spoke up.
“Here they come.” Cecil swatted my leg. “You and Jadine are my granddaughters. The kids are my great-grandkids.” He stared at my face until I nodded my understanding. “Don’t give complicated explanations to any questions.”
“Here’s Papaw.” Finn’s cheerful voice came from the darkness. “Y’all won’t have to leave without hearing his ghost story after all.”
I sat up a little straighter and glanced at Jadine. She patted my arm and smiled at the campfire.
The family consisted of a man and woman I guessed to be in their forties and a teenage boy with a peach fuzz mustache. The kid acted bored out of his wits, gaze casting about, wiggling in his lawn chair to make it squeak. If he got up and went back to the family camping vessel, we were in deep doo-doo.
Finn got our guests situated in lawn chairs near Cecil. Cecil stuck out his hand and greeted them in a weaker voice than normal. His hands shook to
o. Was he getting tired? Or was this part of an act? I suspected the latter and had to bite back a smile, no matter how awful and wrong it was. My family had their act down pat.
Cecil made introductions of our clan, claiming to be related to everyone at the campfire. The mark introduced himself as Chris Hollingsworth. His wife was Jennifer. The son, C.J., or Chris Junior. C.J. stared at Jadine’s face, maybe hoping she’d notice him. I had news for him. She’d never see him.
“Is everybody ready to hear a scary story?” Cecil smiled and leaned toward the Hollingsworths. They smiled politely.
“It’ll be the perfect end to our stay in Texas.” Chris Hollingsworth’s Yankee pronunciation of Texas was actually more correct than ours, but it sounded so very wrong. It was short and stiff, while we milked our vowel sounds and drew out the word like saying “takes-us.”
Finn leaned down to pat Cecil’s back. “Thanks for doing this for the Hollingsworths, Papaw. I’m going to spend some alone time with my wife.” He slipped us all a wink and got appreciative chuckles in response. Cecil waved him off, his dark eyes fixed on the Hollingsworths.
“I grew up around these parts.” Cecil’s lie came out smooth as chocolate pudding. I knew good and well, from the few stories Memaw told me, that Cecil spent his childhood moving town to town, probably learning to perpetrate scams like this before he understood they were illegal. Memaw could have never lied like this. Then I thought about the spell inside me and flinched. But she’d told me nothing but versions of the truth my whole life. She’d lied. Maybe not like Cecil, but lies were lies.
“My grandmother, Samantha, was afraid of nights like this one.” Cecil swept one arm out. “Cold nights—”
“This isn’t cold.” Jennifer Hollingsworth laughed.
“Not to you, no. To us, it is.” Cecil smiled at his audience but then glanced away from them. “Like I said, Memaw was scared of nights like this.” My great-uncle tipped me a wink and a smile as he stole my pet name for my grandmother. “Cold nights where the sky was clear. Nights where the sounds carried through the trees because all the underbrush was dead and withered away. Those were the nights my grandmother feared. Memaw’d come to our house and spend those nights. I had twin sisters, Ruth and Leticia, and she always insisted on a cot in their room.” Cecil faced me for a brief second, a smirk curving his mouth. He enjoyed this. Wrong or not, he loved it.
