Shadow Child

by Wendy Wang

  "Are you serious? That’s a really shitty thing to do."

  "Yeah, that's what I thought, too. I haven't told anybody. Not even Tom," Charlie said. "Evan knows something’s up, but I didn't give him any details."

  "He's a good kid," Ben said.

  "Yes, he is," Charlie said. "I feel lucky he's my son."

  "You know, if I were in your position with Evan, I would probably keep his training to your weeks of custody. And let him know that whatever his father wants to teach him, he should be open to that, too. All of our experiences shape us and the more he understands about others and their beliefs, the more compassionate he’ll become. Let him make the decision," Ben said. "Ultimately, it's his life. He's the one that's gonna have to live it."

  "I agree," Charlie said.

  "So what are you gonna do about your job?" Ben asked.

  "I don't know yet," Charlie said.

  "I'm just gonna put this out there," Ben said. "The Defenders of Light would be lucky to have a witch of your caliber working for them."

  "Jen told me you are putting together a team," Charlie said. " I lose a lot of things with this job. One of them is my health insurance."

  "You would have health insurance and dental and vision and a 401(k)," Ben said.

  "Really?" Charlie said. "You travel so much. I don't know how that would work since I have Evan every other week."

  "Let me talk to my boss," Ben said. "See what sort of suggestion she might have. I'm not promising anything. You're right, there’s a ton of travel with this job. But there might be a solution you and I haven't even thought of yet."

  "That would be great," Charlie said.

  "Yeah," Ben said. "Like I said. The DOL would be lucky to have you."

  Ben tapped Charlie on the upper arm. “Look there,” he said, pointing to an apparition snooping among the latest wares being unpacked and readied for this week's auction. "Did you know there was a ghost in here?"

  "Oh yeah," Charlie said, spotting the familiar form. "That's Jemima Houston. She's been hanging around this warehouse forever. She and her husband lived in Charleston in the late 1700s. I think their house is a museum now."

  "Why is she haunting this place then?" Ben asked.

  "I have no idea. I've never asked her," Charlie said. "Although I do remember there was an auction of some of her personal things several years back. They were trying to raise money to restore something in the museum. Maybe one of the items she was really attached to sold, and she decided she liked it here.” Charlie chuckled. "She’s harmless though if that's what you're worried about."

  Ben’s expression switched from perplexed back to curious as he surveyed the items in the enormous warehouse. "Nah, I'm not worried. I'm just surprised she’s here," Ben said. “How come you’ve never pushed her to make the big jump?”

  Charlie brushed off his question with a shrug. "Never really had the opportunity. Plus, I think she likes snooping around people's stuff and goosing them with her cold presence," Charlie said with a little laugh. "Sometimes with ghosts you have to pick your battles. If she ever became troublesome, I would definitely step in."

  "I just wondered," Ben said. "There's a guy over there. Why don’t we go talk to him." He pointed in the direction of an older gentleman overseeing the staging of certain items near the back wall. One of the workers noticed Charlie and Ben. He tapped the man on the shoulder and the man turned around, looking straight at them. He held a clipboard in his hand and a stern look on his face, although he did smile once he got close enough to say, "Hi folks. We're not open today."

  "Oh, we’re not here for an auction," Charlie said. "I was here a couple of weeks ago for the Ruskin auction, and I was hoping that somebody could answer some questions for me."

  "Sure. What kind of questions?" he said.

  "Did everything sell?"

  "Everything that didn't sell went back to the owner."

  "You wouldn’t happen to know who that is, would you? There were a couple of pieces of furniture we were looking at," Ben said. "Maybe they didn't sell. Maybe he still has them?"

  “Yeah, I think there was some furniture that went back. Come with me,” the man said. “I’m Len Dalton by the way,” he said, directing his attention to Charlie.

  “Charlie Payne, and this is my cousin Ben.” Charlie gave Ben a sly smile. Ben gave her a knowing look but played along. "I'm also a collector of old papers. Books. Diaries. Journals, that sort of thing," Charlie said.

  "Oh," Len pulled a card from his shirt pocket. "We’ve got an auction you might find interesting coming up in a couple weeks then. The owner had a pretty extensive library."

  Charlie took the card with a smile. "Thank you."

  "I don't remember if there were any journals or anything like that with the Ruskin estate, but there could be. The woman's husband was a lawyer and in the state legislature back in the early 70s," Len offered.

  "That's very interesting," Charlie said. They followed him to a small office near the back of the warehouse. Len knocked on the door and entered.

  "Dorie," Len said. "These people wanted to know about the Ruskin estate. What went back to the family?"

  Dorie looked up from her desk and gave Charlie and Ben a sunny grin. "I can help them with that."

  "Good," Len said. "I have to get back to unloading and setting up for Friday's auction."

  "Thank you," Charlie said. She waited until Len was out of earshot before turning to Dorie. "Do you know, were there any books or journals, letters, papers, anything like that that the family tried to auction off and couldn't?"

  "Let me take a look for you," Dorie said. "You know we don't usually auction off personal papers unless they’re historically significant."

  "Sure," Ben said. "But wasn't Mr. Ruskin a state representative?"

  "You know I believe he was," Dorie said. "So there may have been some papers." She dug through a large file cabinet in the corner of the small, cluttered office. A moment later she produced a thick stack of paper held together by a binder clip. She took it to her desk and began to flip through the pages. "It looks like most of the books sold, and I don't have any personal papers listed."

  Charlie edged forward and looked over the woman's shoulder. Labeled at the top of the page in a very, small, neat print was the information for the Margaret Ruskin estate, including an address on Tradd Street. Number forty-two Tradd. Below was the contact for the seller, Paul Ruskin, and an address and phone number on Daniel Island.

  A second later Charlie’s phone buzzed in her purse. "I'm so sorry. If you'll excuse me," she said and unzipped the front pocket and pulled out her phone. It was a text from Ben.

  What do you see?

  Dorie smiled up at her. The lines around her eyes crinkled a little deeper.

  "I apologize this will take just a second. It's my son," Charlie lied. She glanced at the paper again and responded to Ben’s text. .

  134 Oliver St., Daniel Island. 843-555-5982.

  Perfect. I think that's all we need right?

  Charlie tucked her phone back into her purse. “Sorry about that.”

  “So was there anything else you were looking for?” Dorie asked.

  “There was a full-size spindle bed,” Charlie said. “Did it sell?”

  Dorie looked through the list. “Um … yes, it did. I’m sorry.”

  “No problem. I come here a lot. I’m sure I’ll find what I’m looking for eventually.” Charlie noticed an enameled box on the neatly kept desk. “That’s a pretty box. May I see it?”

  “Why thank you,” Dorie said, picking it up and holding it out for Charlie to admire.

  “It looks very old. Well kept of course, but old,” Charlie said.

  “It belonged to Jemima Houston. She was the wife of a very prominent merchant. Have you ever been to the Houston House Historical museum?”

  “I have,” Charlie said. “They have this staircase that’s an architectural wonder.”

  “They do,” Dorie said. “Several years back they
asked us to do a private auction of some of Jemima Houston’s things. I think it was to raise money for some construction on the roof. This little snuff box came up, and I bid on it and won. I can just imagine her, carrying it around in her pocket.” Dorie touched the enamel top with reverence.

  “It’s lovely,” Charlie said, unable to stop a smile from spreading across her face. Knowing a little more about Jemima Houston’s story erased the irritation she’d felt earlier because of Scott.

  “I just love little pieces of history like this, don’t you?” Dorie said.

  “I do,” Charlie said. “Thank you so much for all your help.”

  “You’re welcome, dearie. Y’all come see us again,” Dorie said.

  “Don’t you worry,” Charlie said. “We will.”

  Lisa leaned her head against the window of Daphne’s car, gazing at the vista blurring by. Palmetto Point State Park sat out near the end of Palmetto Point Beach. The canopy of moss-covered trees dappled the dusty two-lane gray roads in sunshine, and coming out this far always put her in a thoughtful mood.

  "So Jason's going to meet us there?" Daphne said.

  "That's what he said," Lisa answered. "He's going to get us into the park so we don't have to pay. He already talked to the ranger on duty, and the space where the girl's parents had camped is unoccupied this week. "

  "Good," Daphne said. "Hopefully, there won't be a lot of onlookers."

  "Jason said it's kind of a secluded spot, so that shouldn't be a problem. It's also October. Won’t be a lot of families around," Lisa said.

  "Maybe not," Daphne said. "But I get clients who live in RVs year-round and travel all around depending on the time of year. It’s still warm here, which is attractive to a lot of people."

  "I don’t think I could live that kind of life," Lisa said.

  "I could," Daphne said. "I like the idea of being a nomad."

  "I could see that," Lisa said. "Me? I like roots. And routine."

  Daphne chuckled. "Tell me something I don't know."

  When they reached the park, they pulled into the small lot next to the ranger station and waited. Ten minutes later Jason appeared along with his partner Beck in tow.

  "So what are we gonna do about this guy?" Daphne said.

  "I don't know," Lisa said. "Just play it cool for now, okay?"

  "I’m totally cool," Daphne said. "But if he opens his mouth and makes fun of my crystals, I will hex him."

  "I won't stop you," Lisa said. The two of them got out of the car and walked to Jason’s Dodge Charger.

  "Hey y'all," Lisa said.

  "How’re you doing Lisa." Beck walked around the car to greet them.

  "Marshall, you remember my cousin Daphne," Lisa said.

  "Sure," Beck said. "

  "So did you bring the stuff I asked you for?" Lisa said.

  "Yeah," Jason said. "It was a little awkward, but Ms. Moore did as I asked."

  "I appreciate that," Lisa said. Jason took a small plastic evidence bag from his front pocket and handed it to Lisa. Inside was a tangle of hair from Keeley Moore's hairbrush.

  "Will that do?" he said. "There wasn't a whole lot of hair."

  "It's perfect," Lisa said. "We don't need a whole lot."

  "Do y'all mind me asking what you're gonna do with that hair," Beck asked.

  Daphne shot Lisa a don't-test-me look, and her hand tightened on the strap of the oversized tote bag hanging from her shoulder.

  "We're gonna use it to help find Keeley Moore," Lisa said. “To home in on her we need something personal, and there's nothing more personal than hair or fingernail clippings."

  "Right," Beck said. Deep lines wrinkled his brows. He absently scrubbed his hand across the fuzz of his balding head to the remaining salt-and-pepper hair at the back.

  "It can also be used to hex someone," Daphne chimed in. Beck's mouth opened a little with surprise.

  "Yes, but we frown on that sort of thing," Lisa said. She ignored the smirk on Jason's face. He appeared to be enjoying this a little too much.

  "So, you ready to go see this place?" Jason asked.

  "Yes, please," Lisa said.

  Jason and Beck walked in front of the cousins, and Daphne kept giving Lisa a side-eyed glance. It was a good quarter-mile to the beachfront campsites, and Lisa was glad to stretch her legs. The sun warmed her body and she wished she were here under different circumstances. Maybe once this was done, she thought. Maybe she and Jason could come here and go camping one weekend. She enjoyed sleeping within earshot of the ocean. It calmed her.

  "This is it," Jason said when they arrived at the number eleven spot. It was a little more secluded than some of the other spots that they had passed. She glanced up the sandy-covered dirt road and could see the public shower house and bathroom. The way the site was laid out, the girl’s parents would've had to have been on the road to see Keeley heading toward the bathroom. When the girl left the campsite, she was invisible to them.

  "Is there another way out of here?" Lisa asked.

  "This main road circles back around. There are campsites facing the marsh on the other side,” Jason said.

  "What about an access road?" Daphne asked.

  "No, there's nothing like that," Jason said. “Sorry."

  "There's a pier though, right?" Lisa said. “At the end of the peninsula, there's a pier."

  “There's a public boat ramp there, too," Daphne said.

  "Yeah," Beck said. "We already checked all that." He sounded impatient as if he were unsure what these two women could add to this case.

  "We know," Lisa said. "And our questions are not a criticism."

  "No," Daphne said. "We’re just looking for possibilities."

  "Right," Beck said. "Well, there are a million possibilities, ladies."

  Daphne stopped in her tracks, and her voice became quiet as she spoke. The energy around her cousin shifted, and the hair on Lisa’s arms stood up.

  "Yes, Mr. Beck. We know there are a million possibilities. We were asked to help. What we do takes a little faith. That's all we’re asking, is for you to have a little faith in us so we can try to narrow that million possibilities down to something more manageable. Your negativity will kill that if it doesn’t stop now.”

  Beck's jaw tightened; his nostrils flared. Lisa could tell he was about to give Daphne as good as he got. She had seen him lose his temper a couple of times at Jason, and he could be loud and blustery, but he was no match for Daphne. She meant it when she said she would hex him. Knowing Daphne, it would be something that would make him even more miserable than he already was.

  "Okay." Lisa stepped between them and held up her hands. "Let's just take a breath everybody. This is stressful. There's a lot riding on it. But we need to remain on task. Right, Daphne?"

  "Right," Daphne said. She narrowed her eyes and her knuckles turned white with the death grip she had on her purse strap. She didn’t stay to listen to Lisa and walked to the campsite, leaving her cousin to make nice.

  "Let's just all try to get along, okay?" Lisa said. She gave Beck a pointed look.

  "Fine," Beck said.

  "Great. Daphne and I are gonna set up now. If you two wouldn't mind keeping curious onlookers out of our way, we’d really appreciate it."

  "That's what we're here for," Beck said. Jason gave Lisa a sheepish smile.

  "Thank you, Lisa," Jason said. "We'll be up here by the road if you need us.”

  "Thank you." Lisa turned and headed for the interior of the campsite. Daphne was standing between a picnic table and an ancient, rusty grill unloading everything they needed to set up a circle. She placed four brass candleholders with white candles and four brass candleholders with purple candles on the table. Along with a small leather bound spell book, and a navy blue velvet pouch full of crystals. Daphne dug around the bottom of her bag and produced a book of matches. The last thing she placed on the table was a folded triangle of canvas.

  "What is that for?" Lisa said.

  "I don’t like
to sit in the sand without something underneath me. It’s scratchy and gets into everything," Daphne said. A cicada screamed from one of the surrounding trees and Daphne pointed up. “And there are bugs. I hate bugs."

  Lisa chuckled and cocked her brows. "It’s a cicada. It’s not coming after us.” Daphne ignored her. “Whatever. Come on let's set this up."

  Lisa put down the first white candle to form the outer protective circle, and Daphne walked directly across from it, loosely measuring nine feet. She put the second candle holder down. Then they moved 90 degrees to complete the circle with a pair of purple candles.

  Lisa lit all four candles while Daphne spread out a circle of painter’s cloth that she’d cut and hemmed. Daphne placed the remaining candles in the four cardinal points at the edge of the canvas, lit them, and opened her pouch of crystals. She handed a crystal the size of a golf ball to Lisa.

  "Herkimer quartz?" Lisa said. She held up the clear, colorless crystal and admired it. “This must have cost a pretty penny.”

  Daphne shrugged. "I’ve also got black tourmaline and amethyst to help.” She opened her palm and let Lisa pick from the crystals.

  Lisa picked a sizable black tourmaline. Daphne selected a smaller Herkimer quartz and an amethyst, then sat down on the tarp near the south-facing white candle and crossed her legs in half lotus position. Lisa did the same with the north-facing white candle. In one hand she held a small, faceless doll she’d made from an old linen napkin. She’d pinned a needle and red embroidery thread to the fabric of the doll’s belly, ready to use for sewing. She took the small baggie of hair that Jason had brought her and made quick work of stitching it to the top of the doll's head. When she was done, she pinned the needle and what was left of the thread to her collar for safekeeping.

  "Here we go," Lisa said. She placed the doll in the center of the circle then held a quartz and tourmaline crystal in the palm of each hand.

  "What if she's not dead?" Daphne said. She placed a small heart-shaped tin next to the doll in the center circle.

  "We’re not summoning her spirit," Lisa said. “I’m just hoping for a vision.”

  "Maybe we should summon the spirit of someone who can help?"