Marie, now orphaned by the death of her mother, spent most of her time with her great-aunts, learning the ways of conjuring.
The conjurers of Frogmore Island went by various names. Hoodoo doctor, root doctor, spiritual woman, voodoo priestess, and conjure woman. Their purpose and power was all the same; healing or hurting in the name of retributive justice. The definition of that being all up to the one doing the hexing.
Aleta Indigo had come across Marie Dixon when Marie was a teenager. Marie was beautiful and exotic. It was said she had a touch of Native American blood, and there were rumors she could speak to animals because of it. Aleta had thought her to be conceited, with an ego the size of all of Frogmore. Marie walked around the islands with her nose in the air, and if anyone so much as looked at her wrong, she would speak in her strange tongue and days later something would befall the poor person who had come across her path.
Aleta could see into the dark confines of Marie’s mind that at heart she was just a lost child, still grieving the loss of a mother she had never known. They became quick friends. Aleta had set up a small home with her uncle, another root doctor named Dr. Ibis. They received the funds for it from a white woman named Virginia Embers. Marie was distrustful of Virginia and her nieces, Zillah and Calista. There was talk that Zillah was especially unkind to the people of the islands, and that she was a haint borrowing the skin of a human. But these were rumors and Aleta laughed them off. She had known both Zillah and Calista for a long time. Marie Dixon was clearly an overly suspicious woman.
One mid-summer’s night, Aleta invited Marie Dixon over to her new home. Dr. Ibis had also invited his friend Virginia Embers and her Belles. Aleta, not knowing of his invitation, felt bad that she had not told her friend of the other guests. But, thinking this was perhaps a chance for Marie to see the girls for who they were, decided maybe it wasn’t such a terrible slight.
As soon as Marie arrived, the energy of the house changed. The doctor was keenly aware of it and whispered to Virginia that maybe it was best she and her Belles left to go back to Charleston. Before Virginia could ask the girls how they felt, the storm had already started.
It’s up to debate who started the argument. Aleta suspected Zillah made a disparaging comment to Marie Dixon. It was no secret that Zillah was someone who thought herself above most ordinary humans, especially Geechee people. She also loved to mock the rituals and traditions of the Gullah. Calista, for her part, was more than likely just a victim of association.
Either way, a loud quarrel ensued. There was cursing and threats from Zillah, who loved to throw her abilities around. She promised Marie she would come back at first light and show her how useless her “make-believe, voo-doo, slave-magic crap” was.
Marie Dixon was not one to be scorned, especially by the devil herself, which Zillah clearly was. Out of her skirt she pulled something and immediately put it in her mouth. She chewed it in front of the girls, Zillah laughing at the ridiculousness of such an action, all while Marie wailed in an unknown tongue, swaying, her large brown eyes rolled back into her head, the juices from the root she chewed dribbling down her chin. Aleta knew exactly what was happening, though she had never seen it in person.
Marie Dixon was putting a root on Zillah March and Calista Embers.
As soon as the strange seizure started, both girls clutched their heads in agony. Items from the kitchen flew around the room as Calista attempted to summon her ability, hopelessly. Brought to their knees with pain they screamed, their howls filling the humid night air of Frogmore Island.
“Virginia!” Aleta yelled. “You’ve got to take them away! Now!”
The carriage the Embers arrived in sat outside on a dirt path. The driver had been feeding the horses, assuming Virginia and her ladies would be spending the night at Aleta’s home. To his surprise, they were rushed out to the carriage. Dr. Ibis carried Zillah March in his arms while Aleta and Virginia dragged Calista between them. Marie Dixon followed them, shouting loud so that everyone could hear.
“You are bound, Zillah March. You are bound, Calista Embers. If you should ever step even a toe on the shores of Frogmore Island, you will feel pain beyond the pain you feel now. No more shall you spread false tales. My name will never leave your lips again. Or your thoughts.” She continued to scream in a tongue that no one understood, save for Dr. Ibis who could only shake his head at her as the carriage sped off, the horse galloping away as fast as he could.
As soon as they reached the river landing and were on a ferry back to Charleston, the pain for both girls vanished.
But the memory of Marie Dixon never would.
Chapter 24
“So Calista and Zillah can’t come here because of some kind of hex?” I asked. Aleta was up again, the pot was off the stove and she was plopping a mound of grits into a bowl for each of us.
Aleta nodded. “Chewing a root is a powerful conjure. Virginia tried over the years to convince Marie to undo the spell. The doctor too. I think she was close to at least freeing Calista of it, but she crossed the water before it could happen.”
“Crossed the water?”
“That’s how Geechee refer to death.” Aleta sat back down.
“She died?” I asked. Having met so many people the last few days that could seemingly live forever, and the fact I had just survived something that would kill every other human being in the world, it was sobering to remember that death was even a possibility.
“Yes. About forty years ago,” Aleta said, her voice quiet. “She had left the island to meet me up in Summerville, at the Farmer’s Market. She never made it.”
“Zillah.” I was enraged.
Aleta shrugged. “She’s never copped to it. By then we had a truce with her. She’d been excommunicated as a Belle around the time Josephine joined us. But we were under the agreement that we wouldn’t use our powers against one another. But I guess Marie Dixon was a loop-hole.”
We ate our food in silence, both thinking about the fate of Marie Dixon. It angered me that in the end, Zillah always seemed to win.
Dr. Ibis appeared again right before noon. Aleta and I were watching a movie on DVD in the living area. No cable TV out on Frogmore. Or Internet. I was sequestered from the world out here.
“Hello, lovely girls,” Dr. Ibis waved at us as he set a large bag down on the table.
“How is it out there?” Aleta asked. Dr. Ibis sighed.
“Oh, it’s a little hectic. They’re still looking for Miss Emma there. I hate that so many people are upset thinking she’s gone. I hate that we have to do it this way.”
It was weird knowing that right now an entire town was looking for me. I was famous for being potentially dead. It made me a little uneasy.
“Are you able to use your Jedi mind tricks to see what’s going on?” I asked Aleta as she paused the DVD player.
“I don’t plan on it. Besides, it’s not as simple as that. Taking over someone’s mind is the most difficult of tasks for me. I only do it when absolutely necessary. Besides, I don’t want to interfere too much. I know what’s really happening, anyway. I’m hanging out with the ghost of Emma Ayers!” Aleta laughed.
I rolled my eyes. “My life is seriously so damn weird.”
“You sleep well, Miss Emma?” Dr. Ibis asked, as he put things from the bag into the cupboards.
I nodded. “Very well. Thank you for your help.”
“My pleasure, sweet child. We do it again tonight, if you need it. How do your bones feel?”
I smiled. “They feel put back together again. I feel very good. Barely sore at all.”
Dr. Ibis smiled. “Very good. Aleta and I will be taking you on a trip tonight.”
Aleta looked at him, puzzled. “Already? Do you think it’s safe?”
Dr. Ibis nodded. “More than okay. It’s also necessary. We’ll go after dinner.”
I looked back and forth between them, wondering what could possibly be going on.
“A trip? Like, off the island?” The though
t of it frightened me. Knowing Zillah couldn’t set foot here made it the only place I wanted to be on the planet. The thought of leaving it made me sick to my stomach. Especially after hearing about Marie Dixon.
“No, Emma. It’s a place on Frogmore, we just can’t get there by traditional means.” Aleta winked at me. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fun.”
“So what do we do until then?” I asked. I was already itching to get out of the house for a bit.
Aleta looked at me, clearly thinking.
“Maybe it’s time you and I go climb some trees.”
Aleta packed a backpack with sandwiches and bottles of water and we were on our way. Outside it was a beautiful day, although it was also incredibly hot. Walking through it was like trying to work your way through wet cotton. Once we’d been outside a mere five minutes I already felt the need for a long shower. Preferably a cold one.
“Gotta love South Carolina in the summer,” remarked Aleta as we trudged down a wooded path next to Dr. Ibis’s home.
“It’s pretty damn swampy out here,” I said. “You sure you want to climb a tree when it’s this hot?
Aleta laughed. “Well, there’s nothing else to do. Besides, you’ll forget about how hot you are once you see them.”
“See what?” I asked, exasperated. I said it as we cut through some bushes leading to a clearing that when I finally looked up to notice, took my breath away.
Lined up, endlessly, was a long line of enormous live oaks. I couldn’t believe they were actually real. Their long, thick branches reached out like arms toward the coast, green and lush. Some of their branches touched the ground, giving you an easy leg up should you wish to climb them.
They seemed to be beckoning anyone that passed by. There was a life and an energy to them, something I had never seen on all the trips my mother had taken us on to various national parks and islands.
I felt like I had entered a fairytale. Birds sang, and a lovely breeze blew through our hair, giving us an instant of relief from the heat.
“Holy hell,” I said, walking toward the nearest trunk. I placed my hand against it. There was something electric about it, something that truly seemed like magic. I had never seen anything like these trees. And I could see them for acres and acres. There didn’t seem to be an end to them.
“They go across the island,” Aleta said, stepping forward. “Their branches reach out to the sea. Toward home.”
I looked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”
Aleta was at the bottom of one of the long branches and was already starting the climb. Her long legs and arms knew the way, as if she had done this a thousand times before. She made it look easy.
“Follow me up, and I’ll tell you all about it,” she said. “As you can imagine, like everything, there’s a great story behind them.”
I slowly followed her up the oak’s substantial branch. It was thick and sturdy, and not a single part of me worried that it would break under my weight. But once you were up it, it was higher than you realized from the bottom. My head was dizzy from the height. I stopped for a moment, straddling it, my legs dangling precariously.
“This is harder than you make it look,” I called to Aleta, who was already at the trunk and climbing skyward.
“It’ll be worth it,” Aleta called back. “A sandwich awaits you as a reward.”
I rolled my eyes. “Carbs aren’t going to help me if I plummet to my death.”
Aleta looked at me. “Pretty sure if you survived falling off a bridge you can survive falling ten feet from a tree branch.”
“Touché.”
As I huffed and puffed up the trunk, sweat dripped from my brows into my eyes, slightly burning them for a moment, I questioned why I had agreed to this. The trees were beautiful, but I felt like their beauty could be appreciated so much more from the ground.
But then I got to where Aleta was.
She was perched at the top of this massive live oak. From where she was sitting, in the distance, we could see a strip of the Atlantic Ocean. Behind us, in the farther distance, we could see the tops of tin roofs.
“I’ve been climbing this tree since I was a little girl,” she said, handing me a sandwich wrapped in saran wrap.
“And how long ago was that?” I asked, as I unwrapped it. I could see it was pimento cheese and turkey.
“Sometimes I have to stop and think. But I knew you would ask. I was born in 1801.” She bit into her sandwich, looking out toward the ocean. “I was born on a plantation that used to be at the end of these trees. Right before Johns Island starts.”
I reached out for a water. “Jesus. That’s crazy.”
She nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you know. It really is. I guess after being around so long you forget about how strange it is. Anyway, when I was eight years old I was sold to Virginia. She eventually bought this land from the people who had owned me and my family. But that didn’t happen until after the war. My mother had long since crossed the water by then.”
I stopped chewing for a moment. I felt like an idiot. It had never occurred to me that Aleta could have been a slave. To hear her say she was bought chilled me to my bones. The way she said it in such a cavalier way, like it was just part of who she was. Just how it was. It boggled my mind.
“So Virginia bought us and essentially freed us, although we never left her. It was just me and my mother. Virginia kept us together. Paid a lot of money for that to happen. To a very mean man.”
I sat awkwardly, not knowing how to respond.
“That part isn’t important right now,” Aleta continued. “What is important are these trees. Virginia bought the land for a specific reason. It wasn’t for the big colonial home or for the rice fields. She could give a damn about that. But these trees you see here, they’re not just ordinary trees. They’re special.”
I looked around from my perch. “Well, yeah. I mean, they’re gorgeous. Anyone can see that.”
Aleta went on. “Sure, they’re beautiful. But that’s not what makes them special. They’re special because of what you can’t see. They’re special because they’re like us, Emma. They have the power to change things. To change people.”
I was completely confused.
“How does a tree have powers?” I asked. “It just sits here.”
Aleta smiled. “Sure. It just sits here. So you have to come to the tree. But it doesn’t mean it can’t do things. It doesn’t mean it only sits here. These trees have been here for hundreds of years. They’ve seen history. They’ve been a part of it. And when the right person needed their help, they provided it.”
I continued to chew my sandwich. Nothing should have surprised me after yesterday, but it seemed that was the true constant in this part of the world; constant revelations.
“So why are these trees so special?” I said.
“Because they’re the reason I can see thoughts. They’re the reason I’m alive and they’re part of the reason you’re here. Why you were so important to find.”
ALETA INDIGO MEETS VIRGINIA EMBERS
Aleta Indigo was eight years old the day she found the live oaks at the end of Sea Oat Plantation on Frogmore Island.
Aleta had been given to the child of her master as a gift just six months prior. Her name was Annabel Walker, and she was a sweet child who had taken a liking to Aleta. They spent most of their days playing around the farm, watching the field workers toiling and sweating under the hard watch of the overseer, who happened to be the oldest son of the master. He was a nasty man with cold gray eyes that reminded Aleta of a dead fish. His name was John Walker Jr., and Aleta’s mother warned her that she should always avoid his gaze whenever possible.
Aleta’s mother had two sons along with Aleta. Her father had been sold to another plantation a few years after Aleta was born, something her mother had never quite gotten over. She had named Aleta after overhearing one of the master’s sons studying Latin. Her mother was a house servant and often eavesdropped on conversations so she could stay ahead
of what was happening on the plantation.
Aleta was Latin for “Winged.” The newly pregnant woman immediately knew it was divine intervention that caused her to hear that word on that day. The Gullah people often sang and spoke of the ability to fly away from their oppressors, on the wings of angels if need be. Her daughter would be named Aleta. She knew it would be a girl. Her brother, Dr. Ibis, told her it would be so.
Aleta was born in the autumn and with little complication. Her mother and brothers fell for her from the beginning. She had been a very good baby, never making much noise. She had large eyes that observed all that was around her. Even the master, Mr. Walker, took a liking to her. Once he knew his wife was also having a baby, he figured Aleta could be his child’s future playmate.
Aleta’s brothers were much older, strong men who worked hard in the fields for the Walkers. But despite their hard life, at night they always had a smile for their sweet Aleta, their angel sent from a God they knew must love them to bestow such a gift.
Aleta and Annabel Walker had discovered the live oaks on a beautiful spring day. They weren’t supposed to leave the view of the big house, but their joy and energy had led them slightly astray on that day and the discovery of the trees made them feel as if they had learned of a secret that was given just for them to keep.
“Should we climb?” asked Annabel. She was always the more precocious one, the one seeking adventure. Aleta had been raised to be submissive to Annabel’s whims, but she also feared getting in trouble. When Annabel was scolded, Aleta was usually her whipping girl. It didn’t happen often, but Aleta was in no mood to get a whipping for something Annabel decided to do.
“I don’t think so. You’ll mess your dress,” Aleta advised, wise even at her young age.
“I can just say I stumbled near the field. Mama won’t mind, I’ve done it plenty of times. The branches are so low! They’re meant to be climbed!”
Hell's Belles (Hell's Belles Trilogy Book 1) Page 16
