Carolina Conjuring

by Alison Claire

  As the yacht crystallized, the name on the side became clear. A single word, in haint blue: “Emanuel.”

  13 Briar

  Silas left shortly thereafter, and Virginia went off to another part of the house with Darla and Dr. Ibis.

  The yacht Emanuel belonged, of course, to Ezekiel Walker, named in honor of his late brother. Its presence near Palmer and Lukas losing their powers didn’t seem likely to be a coincidence.

  Even though it was heading toward the middle of the night, Chantelle set out a breakfast spread that the finest hotels in Charleston would be hard-pressed to match for their Sunday brunch.

  Virginia invited us to eat and said that guest rooms would be set up for Palmer and Lukas, if they wanted to stay the night.

  I had a feeling Palmer would find a way into Jo’s room. I wondered if maybe sneaking Lukas into my own accommodations was in the cards.

  Shrimp and grits, French toast, biscuits and gravy, thin, crispy bacon and a thicker, chewier type that she called a “butcher’s cut”, eggs any way you wanted them, and a bowl filled with three types of melon balls covered the dining room table.

  Everything was perfection.

  We feasted. Evidently, being brought back from the dead was hungry business, as was doing the bringing.

  Being a Belle was going to exponentially increase my dress size.

  Lukas and Palmer sat with me and Josephine at one end of the table, while Aleta and Emma shared the other. Food filled the middle.

  I watched my twin eat, and she did the exact same thing I did with my fruit.

  Using the fork, we each tried to capture one of each color melon ball – red, orange, and green – on a separate tine. I’d done it that way with food since I was a little girl, and I guessed she had, too.

  As Palmer and Lukas chatted between mouthfuls, discussing their hopes of one day being able to shift again and of being welcomed back by their families, I zoned out a bit and daydreamed. Or “awakedreamed”, I guess since I was awake, and it wasn’t daytime, so I couldn’t call it a daydream.

  I thought about sitting at a breakfast table, maybe even in the middle of the night, with Emma and Merritt. Maybe we’d snuck out to chase boys and snuck back in hungry. Or maybe one of us had a bad dream, and since we couldn’t sleep, we tiptoed to the kitchen, whispering and giggling through a midnight snack of Pop-Tarts and potato chips.

  It sure would have beaten waiting in bed in terror for whatever torture Marla Muchow and company had in store for me.

  Tears stung the corners of my eyes as my imagination crafted a vivid scene in the childhood kitchen of my fantasies.

  “Briar… Hey, Briar. Are you okay?”

  Lukas had been talking to me, and I’d been completely oblivious.

  “I’m sorry, I was just thinking. It’s been a long day, you know?”

  “Sure, of course. I was just asking if you’d come to the funeral with me. Some first date, huh? Pretty romantic. A double funeral. Sheesh. Palmer thinks we’ll be allowed to go, even with everything that’s going on.”

  “I’m definitely going,” Palmer corrected. “Sasha was my cousin. We grew up together. I don’t care what my father or Chief Lambiotte or anybody else says.

  “Hey, I’m all for it, Lukas agreed. “I just hope this effect is temporary, or that Ms. Virginia can figure out how to fix us.

  “No offense to you, Briar, or any of the rest of you, but being just a human kinda sucks.”

  As if anybody in that room was “just a human.” Even Chantelle, who used a spatula instead of a magic wand, had abilities far beyond anybody I’d met in my old life.

  “None taken,” Aleta replied, pushing herself away from the table. “Chantelle is going to be the death of me. Not another bite. Well, maybe just one more piece of bacon. Good Lord, it’s good.” She swirled the bacon on the puddles of syrup that dotted her plate where the French toast had been and ate it slowly, savoring the salty sweetness.

  “I’m going to get some sleep,” Aleta announced. “What a day.”

  “Me, too,” Emma added. She caught us watching as she wrapped up some bacon in a napkin. “What? In case I get hungry later!” She stuck her tongue out at us and left with Aleta.

  Josephine and Palmer had started getting very touchy-feely and it was no surprise when they were the next to go, off to find a surreptitious avenue to Jo’s room.

  “Well?” I asked Lukas, not sure what we should do next. As much as I had a crush on him, and he seemed to like me, we’d known each other not even an entire day.

  “Let’s clean this up,” he suggested.

  The waitress in me wanted a bus boy to do it, and the Belle in me wanted to pull a Calista and flex my newfound station in life. But Lukas had already stacked all the plates at our end of the table and started toward the kitchen. “Can you grab the glasses?” I could definitely grab the glasses. I finished my juice and clinked the four glasses together in my hands and followed Lukas.

  We were met by Chantelle, just inside the doorway. “Oh, heavens no, Ms. Briar, you must leave that for me!” She exclaimed.

  Lukas bent down and gave Chantelle a peck on the cheek. “No, Ma’am, you were kind enough to put all this together for us, it’s the least we can do.”

  “Well, I never,” Chantelle said, flustered by the kiss and our impertinence.

  Lukas set the plates on the counter and began scraping the small bits of scraps into the trash.

  “Are you trying to put me out of a job?” Chantelle asked.

  “I can’t even boil a pot of water,” Lukas replied. Chantelle stood with her hands on her hips watching him, shaking her head.

  I returned to the dining room, just in time to watch four slices of the butcher’s cut bacon go floating through the air toward the open door to the staircase.

  “The shrimp and grits are really good too, Calista,” I said, with a laugh in my voice.

  A slender, perfectly-manicured middle finger appeared from behind the door. Once the bacon disappeared through the portal, the door closed silently behind it.

  “That boy is crazy,” Chantelle said as she came in behind me and started gathering up the food we hadn’t finished.

  “Yes, he is,” I agreed.

  “Now get him out of my kitchen, please. I don’t care how crazy or cute he is, if Belles or their guests start doing their own dishes I won’t be able to walk down King Street! It’ll be scandalous!”

  Fiona joined Chantelle in the dining room to finish clearing the table.

  I hugged Chantelle and thanked her for the meal. I retrieved my merman and we headed for the back porch. The heat of the day had ben chased away by a welcome breeze, which not only cooled us, but sent the fragrance of Virginia’s garden swirling.

  We sat together on a bench swing, close enough that our hands had nowhere to go but into each other’s.

  “Tell me about yourself, Briar Belle,” Lukas asked. “I mean besides the Belle part. Palmer told me you just met Emma, right? Twins and you didn’t even know it?”

  I nodded. This was the part I dreaded when I talked to anybody, not just a handsome guy. I hadn’t yet come up with a way to sugarcoat being dropped off at a fire station and growing up on my own personal Island of Misfit Toys.

  I’d lied, and fibbed and gussied up my ugly set of circumstances ever since late elementary school, when it occurred to me that not everybody grew up like I did. Err, well, that nobody grew up like I did.

  But Lukas was holding my hand. And his eyes were so kind. And so green… I decided to go for broke.

  “Well, my name is Briar Givhans, although I don’t know if I’m supposed to become Briar Embers now, or if I’m an Ayers, like Emma.” It was a question I’d somehow not gotten around the asking myself. Who was I, really? Once the novelty of being a Belle wore off, it was a question that bore answering. I figured it would only take a century or two. “And I grew up in…” I just couldn’t. “I grew up in Goose Creek. Out by Summerville. Do you know where that is?”
r />   Lukas nodded.

  “I didn’t know, since Palmer told me your folks live in Savannah.”

  “They do,” he replied. “But I’m a Lowcountry boy. I’ve spent more time around Charleston than probably anywhere else. I roam a bit.”

  “Free spirit.”

  “I’ve been accused of that, sure,” Lukas smiled. “But I always return to the Lowcountry. Do you know why?”

  I shrugged.

  “The prettiest girls live here. And today I met the prettiest of them all.”

  I was mid-eye roll when he leaned in and kissed me.

  It started as a clumsy kind of kiss, our noses not knowing exactly what to do, and me not so sure if I was even ready for a kiss, especially from a merman, whether he could shift or not, and…

  But I just let it happen.

  And it was fantastic. And I kissed him back, and he me, and we wound up having a pretty epic make-out session, right there on the swing. On the back porch of one of the fanciest mansions South of Broad.

  14 Emma

  Two days hence, I set foot on a yacht for the first time in my life.

  The funeral service for Sasha Martin and Warren Richburg was scheduled for dusk in the water off Bull Point, the southernmost tip of Pritchard Island, down toward Hilton Head.

  Briar and I found black dresses among the bounty of designer clothes in our enormous walk-in closets, and we matched them with black Christian Louboutin pumps. With our hair up and light makeup, I thought we were a picture of elegance.

  Calista was something altogether different. We found her waiting downstairs in the library.

  Briar and I were understated and solemn. The eldest Belle looked ready for a runway. A runway in heaven. Or maybe hell. Her dress was sky blue, as tight as a second skin, and slit way up the side, leaving a swath of tanned thigh visible. Her matching heels looked too tall to walk in. Not that she needed it, but she wore more makeup than the two of us combined.

  “Good thing we’re going to a funeral,” Briar commented. “Because you’re going to wind up giving somebody a heart attack.”

  Calista slipped her Lugano sunglasses down her nose to get a better look at us.

  “You two do realize this is a mer funeral, right?” She asked.

  “Duh,” Briar responded.

  “And that’s what you’re wearing?”

  “And that’s what you’re wearing?” Briar returned fire.

  Calista snickered. “You two are hopeless,” she said, giving us one last look before scrolling through her phone.

  Briar started to speak, but Josephine entered the library before my sister could get the words out.

  Wearing blue.

  Of course.

  Josephine went back upstairs with us and kindly explained that formal mer occasions, whether weddings or funerals, called for blue, symbolizing the water.

  Once we were more appropriately dressed, and of course still significantly more conservatively than Calista, we returned to the library, where Virginia and Fiona had joined Calista.

  Virginia beamed. “You’re all so beautiful! Now Emma and Briar, this will be new to you. Truth be told, it’s been years since I’ve attended one of these, so I may be rusty myself. Just follow along as best you can; some of it will be in the native mer language, even I can’t understand that. There will be sirens there, Emma, but not like the nasty one you had your run-in with. Josephine will be with us if anxiety of any kind is a problem.

  “It’ll just be a short drive down to the Yacht Club; The Belle is moored there. We’ll meet a few others there and rendezvous with Solomon near Beaufort.

  Virginia hadn’t yet hired a replacement for Walter, so driving fell to Fiona.

  The enormous luxury SUV pulled into the Charleston Yacht Club, where Aleta, Dr. Ibis, and Darla awaited us.

  “Every time I’d go to James Island to go to the beach or whatever I’d always look at all the yachts and sailboats in the harbor here. I never actually thought I’d be getting on one,” Briar half-whispered to me as we walked toward the entrance.

  “I can’t decide which requires more suspension of disbelief,” I countered, “attending a mermaid funeral or being a passenger on a yacht.”

  We bumped shoulders. It was still weird to have a twin, but at the same time there was such immense comfort in it. And I needed all the comfort I could get in this new world.

  As we greeted Aleta and company, a car pulled up and out came Palmer and Lukas. Lukas and Briar hugged, and he kissed her forehead. Palmer and Josephine’s display of affection wasn’t as subdued. They kissed and kissed, until Fiona interrupted them by clearing her throat loudly.

  We passed through the Yacht Club to the docks, our group drawing stares and leers from the stodgy crowd inside.

  Th crew of The Belle, a dozen men and women in matching, crisp blue and white uniforms awaited us.

  “On behalf of the crew, welcome aboard The Belle, folks. I’m Captain Jill Pickford, this is my first mate Renee, chief steward Wendell, I believe you’re all acquainted with our chef today, Chantelle.”

  I was delighted to see Chantelle and couldn’t wait to eat. I’d become like one of Pavlov’s dogs; just the mention of her name and my stomach started rumbling. I was also impressed to see that Virginia had selected a female captain for her yacht. It wasn’t very feminist of me, but I’d just never considered that a boat captain could be anything but a man. Captain Pickford wore the requisite deep tan of someone who spent their life in the sun and her close-cropped hair was sun-kissed blonde. She was tall and fit, in her mid-forties, and she spoke with a Boston accent.

  “We’ll be taking the Intracoastal Waterway south for approximately two hours, where we’ll drop anchor and enjoy dinner with a beautiful sunset just off Bull Point. Drinks and hors d’oeuvres will be served en route. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.

  Briar, Josephine, their two mer-beaus and I remained topside to enjoy the sights and sounds of the barrier islands zipping by while the rest of our group relaxed below decks.

  The yacht and scenery were fantastic; I hoped yachting was something Virginia enjoyed enough to make it a regular occurrence, mermaid funerals or not.

  “So, how does this work?” Briar asked Josephine. “Is the captain a witch or sorceress or something? I mean, we’re going to a funeral for a mermaid and merman. I’m guessing some weird shit might happen, right? Does the crew just play along and pretend everything’s normal?”

  Josephine laughed. “Well, the crew know we’re here, of course, and they can see all of us. They could describe each of us if somebody were to ask them tomorrow about the charter they took out on the yacht today.”

  “But…” Briar interjected.

  “But,” Jo continued, “at some point the crew will become so focused on their individual tasks and jobs that they won’t notice what’s happening outside.”

  “Isn’t that kinda messed up?” Briar asked. “Just playing with people’s minds and memory like that? It seems to happen a lot, is all I’m saying.”

  “I don’t like it either,” Josephine agreed. “But it’s something that was decided a long time ago. That the people of this world, the regular people, deserved to live their lives without worrying about werewolves or witches. We do our thing, they do theirs, and then people write books like ‘Unexplained Mysteries’ and ‘Lost Civilizations’ where they gather all sorts of evidence of this ‘hidden world’, the one we know to be true, the one we’re part of, but they never have quite enough evidence to prove anything. It maintains the peace, relatively speaking.

  If the general population knew about us, about magic and monsters just the same way they know about football and Real Housewives and everything else, what do you suppose would happen?”

  “I’m having visions of E.T.,” I commented.

  “Exactly,” Josephine replied. “And I, for one, have no interest in being poked and prodded by a bunch of men in haz-mat suits!”

  I never knew if my pop
culture references would have any meaning to the rest of the Belles, aside from my sister, but Jo seemed the most grounded, and she knew just what I meant.

  Lukas moved behind Briar and wrapped her up in a bearhug, kissing the back of her neck. “Today is going to be sad and dreary enough without having some big philosophical debate, babe.”

  We agreed to table the discussion for another time, and the rest of our voyage was blissfully uneventful. Dolphins popped up from time to time nearby, and our craft drew the attention of all sorts of hungry waterfowl.

  Lukas and Palmer pointed out several mers who zipped through the water at various points during our travels. Their speed was astonishing, and they effortlessly left us in their wake. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have been stripped of such a wondrous gift, although from all outward appearances Palmer and Lukas were handling it well; better than I could have, anyway.

  We arrived and came to a stop within sight of land, which Captain Pickford announced as Bull Point on Pritchard Island. We gathered on deck as other vessels drew in close to us.

  15 Briar

  Virginia’s yacht bobbed in the water near several small boats, and the water was dotted with heads of mermen and maids. A pod of dolphins exhaled their spray as they frolicked. The air fairly crackled with magical energy.

  Aleta put her arm around me and guided me toward Emma, so she could identify some of the dignitaries in attendance for us.

  She pointed first to the only vessel that came close to matching the majesty of The Belle, a yacht two thirds the size of ours, but which appeared to hold more people. The name Natura Perfecta was emblazoned on the side in red.

  “The shifter’s council are aboard that yacht,” Aleta explained. “Werewolves, of course, but there are also werebears…oh, there’s Solomon Lambiotte, you remember him from Angel Oak, right?”

  Emma and I nodded. The mer chief was deep in conversation with a pair of stocky men sporting thick, dark beards. Even in human form, it wasn’t hard to spot the savage beast within them.