Conjure Web

by Yasmine Galenorn

  not unless you can convince her mother to quit acting like an asshole. call me when you can. i’m going to go for a run. i cancelled my appointments this morning.

  I stared at my phone, wishing I could do more. I knew that talking to Meagan’s mother would do no good, but maybe I could talk to Meagan and try to help her see reason. I quickly searched through my contacts to find Meagan’s number and texted her. She wasn’t answering, so I asked her to get in touch with me.

  “Excuse me, January? If you’d care to give us your attention?” Tad’s voice broke through my thoughts.

  Startled, I looked up to see all four of my coworkers staring at me. “Sorry, I have an urgent matter that I’m kind of involved in.”

  “Work-related?”

  I shook my head. “No, personal.”

  “Is it an emergency?” Tad asked. I could tell he was enjoying this little cat and mouse game.

  “Not in the truest sense of the word.”

  “Then perhaps you’d care to join the discussion?”

  I sighed. “Sorry, but this really is difficult. Meagan wants to postpone the wedding because her mother is threatening Ari’s reputation if they go through with it.”

  That wiped the smirk off Tad’s face. He sat down, frowning. “What the hell?”

  “Meagan’s mother has always been upset that Meagan came out of the closet, and she was even more upset that Meagan left what was seen as a fortuitous marriage. Now, she’s blaming Ari for everything and has threatened to destroy her business if they go through with their wedding.” I shrugged. “And I’m sitting here watching things fall apart.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tad said, contritely. “I didn’t realize it was so serious.”

  “There’s not much I can do, but I’m thinking if I can talk to Meagan and find out why she’s caving into her mother’s demands, maybe I can help. But she won’t answer my texts, or she can’t just yet. I hope it’s the latter, not the former.”

  “Well, we’re just all having a day, aren’t we?” Caitlin said. “Can we just get on with business? The sooner this day is over, the happier I’ll be.”

  Tad paused, looking around the table. “All right, listen up. We’ve all been working hard, and doing a great job. Yes, we have to go searching in the Mystic Wood for the Woodlings, but that’s not going to happen today and I think we all know that. For one thing, if you want Killian to come along with us, then he needs to be here. January, if you can ask him when he’ll be able to join us? Other than that, the hunt for bigfoot’s going to take time, since we have so many sightings to sort through. For those reasons, I’m declaring today a holiday. Go. Take care of the things you need to take care of. Be free, my children.” He waved his arms like a bird and squawked, producing a laugh from all of us.

  As we gathered up our things, I sidled over to Caitlin. “What’s going on?”

  “You want to stop in at Lucky’s and talk over pie?” she asked.

  “Do you mind if I ask Ari to join us?”

  “Ask away.” She slid into her coat and gathered her things as I did the same. The carousel, I left in the office. It seemed the safest place for it.

  As we headed out the door, I texted for Ari to meet Caitlin and me at Lucky’s and she said she’d be there in fifteen minutes. Overhead, the sky was weeping, gray and overcast with spring rain. A light wind was blowing, and I couldn’t help but feel that change was in the air.

  Lucky’s was jumping, but we managed to find a booth near one of the wide windows. We were about to order pie when I decided that I hadn’t eaten enough for breakfast, so I ordered a bowl of chicken soup and a roll to go with the pie. Caitlin ordered a side of fries.

  Ari showed up a few moments later. She hustled over and slid in beside Caitlin so she could face me, and pulled off her gloves and slid out of her jacket. She was wearing sunglasses, though, and when I motioned for her to take them off, her eyes were red and teary and her nose looked puffy.

  “Oh, Ari, I’m so sorry.” I reached across the table to take her hands. “Why does she want to postpone the wedding?”

  “I think she’s afraid her mother will make good on her threats and Meagan’s trying to protect my business. But I don’t want her to do that—she shouldn’t sacrifice our happiness because of one old biddy’s bigotry. Granted that old biddy is her mother, but hey, if the label fits, wear it. What drives me nutty is that Mrs. Lopez is constantly saying, Oh I have a gay friend, or Well, my daughter is gay so I know all about the issues… You know the type.”

  I nodded. “Bigotry is alive and well and crosses all boundaries.” I turned to Caitlin. “How about you? Did you tell your parents you aren’t marrying Arlo?”

  She nodded. “Why do you think I was so off this morning?”

  Ari frowned. “What’s going on? I’d like to think about somebody else’s problems other than mine for a while.”

  “Last night, I told my parents that I’m not going through with the arranged marriage. We’ve been engaged for years—since I was young—but even though I know him and have grown up around him, I don’t love him. When I think about spending my future with him, no future at all sounds better.” She shifted in her seat. I could tell that it had not gone well.

  “So, what did they say?” I asked. “Do you need to stay on my sofa?”

  “Thanks, but I’m staying with a friend until I find an apartment. I’ll be out of the dorms by tonight. My mother and father yelled at me for two solid hours. I’m disgracing the family name and their reputation will be ruined and they won’t be able to face their friends, and on and on. Not once did they say a single word that indicates they care anything about my own happiness. My father is frantic that he’ll have to pay a severance dowry—if a bride refuses to marry, sometimes her father is forced to pay a substantial loss fee to the family of the groom.”

  “Cripes, it’s like a kill fee in writing. But you’re a person, not a short story or a novel.”

  “In my Pride, I belong to my parents until I either marry or leave the Pride. Which is why most women go through with the marriages even if they don’t want to. “So now I have two choices. I have twenty-four hours to tell my parents I’ll relent and marry Arlo, or they’ll record the decision in the Pride Roll Book and I will be casta—an outcast. I’ll be on my own, for good.”

  She sounded so desolate that I wanted to hug her. Ari did, since she was sitting next to her. “That’s awful. There’s no provision for those who want to remain single?”

  Caitlin shrugged. “There are some women who are autonomous. If you’re widowed, you don’t have to remarry. If your parents can’t make you a match, you can be designated a ‘woman of independent means’ as long as your father gives you enough money to start out on. But if you do decide to marry after that, it has to be approved by your parents if they’re still living, or the Elders, if your parents are dead. Even if you’re sixty freaking years old, you have to abide by their decision. If they disapprove of your choice, then you can either break up and stay part of the Pride, or you can walk away and, once again, become casta. Women can work, as long as they do their duty to the Pride and marry and at least attempt to bear children.”

  “Your Pride sounds stuck in the 1800s.”

  “My Pride is stuck in the dinosaur era. Anyway, I can’t relent. I can’t marry Arlo. Once I made my decision, I was so relieved that I know it’s the right choice. I’d be miserable and I wouldn’t make him happy. For the rest of his life, he’d know he had a wife who was just going through the motions. And we’d both end up bitter and angry. I’ve seen it before.” She paused as the waitress arrived with our food. After taking Ari’s order, she left us alone.

  “Your people are harsh,” Ari said. “But then, so are a lot of people in the world.”

  “They cling to patterns from days when we needed to grow our population, to keep the Pride from dying out. But those days are gone. There are enough of us, and yet the Elders hold onto their power like it’s gold.” Caitlin nibbled on a fry
.

  I began eating my soup. “What was going on with Tad? I sensed something beneath the surface.”

  “You’re right. When I got to work, I told him all about what happened. He started thumping his chest about how he’d talk to my parents for me, and all that. I’ve never seen him so…testosteroney, if you know what I mean. I told him I’d handle it and I think I hurt his ego. Well, I know I did. I told him that if I wanted his help, I’d ask for it. That it wasn’t his place.”

  I blushed, thinking of my text to Meagan and wondering if I’d overstepped the line. “Um, he just wanted to help, but yeah…” I glanced at Ari. “So, has Meagan texted you?”

  “No, and she’s letting all messages go to voice mail. I know she tends to withdraw when she’s in a confrontation—well, usually. She didn’t when she finally broke it off with her ex-husband. But Meagan is so disappointed in her mother that I have no clue what she’s up to now. I’m worried about her. I texted her to just let me know if she’s okay, but she hasn’t sent me a single message.”

  Ari looked so worried that I wanted to throttle Meagan. Storming out after an argument was one thing, but keeping your partner worried was downright rude and hurtful.

  “Maybe she’s driving and can’t answer,” I said.

  “And maybe I’m not really pissed,” Ari said. But I could tell she was more concerned than angry.

  We moved onto other subjects, with me trying to raise both Caitlin’s and Ari’s spirits, but in the end, we just ate our way through an entire chocolate cream pie. But I didn’t give a damn. I was there for my friends, and that was all that mattered. And if it took chocolate cream pie to take the edge off, so be it.

  Chapter Eleven

  After we finished our brunch, Ari took off to do some shopping for salon supplies, and Caitlin decided she needed to stop in at the spa for a massage. As much as I cared about them, I was grateful because I couldn’t think of anything else to try to perk them up. I wanted to be there for them, I wanted to help, but I didn’t have the knack for making people feel better.

  I headed home, relieved to have the rest of the day to myself. As I hung up my jacket and kicked off my boots, I felt a sense of relief sweep over me. I looked around, feeling at peace. I really did finally feel like this was my home, my sanctuary.

  When I was young it had always felt comfortable but temporary. Then when I moved away, it was my parents’ home. And none of the apartments or houses I had shared with Ellison had truly felt like home, either. He had always had the final decision on everything.

  But in the past two months, I had settled back into Moonshadow Bay and established a connection like I had never before managed. I was putting down roots. I no longer felt like I was searching for a place where I belonged. This was my home, and that sense of foundation felt good.

  I padded to the kitchen in my socks. I used refillable plastic bottles that had no BPA in them, and just filled them and kept them in the fridge so that I always had ice-cold water. I added a squirt of sugar-free lemon flavoring to the bottle and shook it up, taking a long drink from it before I sat down at the table. There, I pulled Great-Grandma Colleen’s book of shadows over to me and flipped it open to a random entry.

  Colleen’s Book of Shadows

  Entry: May 3, 1923

  We are broken. My beautiful Lara vanished and I know where she is, but Brian insists I’m wrong. I’m furious with him. Our daughter is gone, likely held prisoner, yet he listens to Rowan Firesong more than he listens to me. I’ve grown to hate that woman. She insinuates herself into our lives like a snake.

  Yesterday I asked Lara to gather together a basket of rolls and bread so I could take them to old Annie Morrow. Annie is near seventy, deaf as a stone post, and the biggest gossip in town. But she’s also a witch in need and my mother taught me that we always look after our own when they need help. Indeed, we look after all our neighbors, for when we may be in need, their goodwill might be all we have to get us through the harder times. So I send Annie a basket of bread each week, and tuck a jar of jelly in with it and a few other tidbits I know she’s fond of.

  My dear Lara volunteered to make the journey. I didn’t like her going through the forest alone, but by faith and magic, she insisted she could do it, and since I had no one else to watch Naomi, I agreed. I let her run off into the wild wood without a care.

  She never came home. When twilight approached, I began to worry and I asked Brian to go look for her. The vampires come out after dark. He did so, and came home white as a ghost. He was carrying the basket—still filled with bread, though the jelly was gone, and there was my Lara’s shawl with it.

  All the men in Moonshadow Bay turned out for the search, but though they looked high and low, they could not find her. I trust they looked—they are good men, men with stout hearts and no end to courage. But not a hair of my Lara’s head did they find. Just the basket of bread and shawl, on the inner borders of the magical woodland.

  I told Brian that in my heart, I know she’s not dead. I can still feel the connection—there’s a strong bond between my Lara and me, and the only thing that can sever that is death. I want her home, to tend to her and to see her rest peacefully, yet I fear we’ll go year after year, always wondering.

  Rowan—and I curse her name—said that we should forget her. That if she was caught up by a Woodling there’s no hope and she’ll be trapped as a slave forever. In my heart, I fear she might be right, though I can’t bring myself to believe it. As much as I detest that woman, she’s generally right about matters. She wears on me, she does, but she was very kindly this evening when she was here, and she paused by Lara’s bed and looked at it.

  “Best to use that for one of your other wee ones,” Rowan said.

  “You mean until she returns,” said I.

  “Colleen, you know what I mean,” she said.

  Brian tells me to accept the loss, that my instinct is off and that somehow our girl met a sudden end. But I still believe that my Lara will return safely to us. And even now, Brian is over at Rowan’s place while he should be here in our home, in our bed comforting me. I lie here alone, under the covers, trying to soothe the other children. Trixie and Esmara know something’s wrong, Prue’s not sure what’s going on, and Naomi’s clueless, being the loving little lump she is. So I stay strong for them, even though inside, I am weeping.

  I know the Woodlings stole my daughter. I know it in my heart and soul. And I won’t rest until we find her and bring her home.

  I stared at the entry, shaking my head. Unable to wait, I flipped through the entries, scanning quickly, until I came to one five days later, where I saw Lara’s name in bold print.

  Colleen’s Book of Shadows

  Entry: May 8, 1923

  And so, she was right. Rowan Firesong was right, my daughter is dead. I still can’t believe this. I still can’t accept it. I swear I can feel her alive. But the sheriff found her body down by the bay, half in, half out of the water. She drowned.

  Brian was out chopping wood for the stove yesterday before he went into town when Rowan and the sheriff rode in. The sheriff was astride his horse, looking for all the world like a prince astride a white steed, with Rowan behind him. He passed by Brian, not noticing him, and knocked on the door. Little Trixie answered, though I told her no opening the door to strangers. But she did anyway and he asked to see me, and I came to the door and then I realized that yes, it was the sheriff visiting, and that made me terribly nervous.

  I remember every nuance of his character. I remember the look on his face. It was shock and worry and tension and sadness. I asked him in, thinking Brian would notice he was here and join us, but Brian apparently was absorbed in his own thoughts and so I made certain the baby was in her crib, and that Prue, Trixie, and Esmara were off in their room, playing.

  I offered Rowan and the sheriff some tea, because that’s what you do, isn’t it? You offer someone tea and a scone or a biscuit. So I did.

  And they accepted the tea but said no
to the pastry. I brought them a piping hot cuppa and we sat at the table. He looked uncomfortable and Rowan kept biting her lip, and I knew there was something wrong. I could feel it—could sense it like I can smell perfume.

  And then they asked where Brian was, so I went to the door and called him in. And we all sat there with tea for a few minutes, with me awkwardly asking if anybody wanted sugar and cream. And finally, he just came out and said it. As clear as day. As clear as spun sugar.

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry to tell you and the mister that I found your daughter Lara. She drowned, down by the edge of the bay.”

  And of course, I was screaming, and they had to lead me over to the rocking chair where I sat and rocked and cried as the sheriff told us what happened.

  I recall him mentioning the water and me screaming because Lara loved the water and how could she die in something she loved? And then he told us that some pervert had done horrible things to her, things I’ll never repeat but that will burn in my memory forever, and the rest of the afternoon is a blur.

  Brian tells me they had to strap me down until Rowan gave me a sedative, some Wissel-Will, and I almost broke free of the restraints but they tightened them, and the sedative finally worked. Now it’s the next morning, and my Lara is still dead, and I can never face life the same way again. And I swear, if I find out who took my daughter from me, I will rip out his heart while it’s still beating, and eat it for lunch.

  I sat back, staring grimly at the page. The words might be nearly a hundred years old, but the energy on the page was still palpable. I let out a long breath, realizing I’d been holding it as I read. So, my great-grandmother had believed that the Woodlings took Lara, but instead, the girl had been murdered. And brutally so, given the innuendos in Colleen’s journal entry.

  I pushed back the book of shadows, sitting back to think. The Woodlings were in the thicket even then—but that made sense. They tended to stay in warmer climes, in the forests. I wondered if, as the deforestation continued, they would fight back? Or would they fade away? Feeling uncountably sad, I made myself another mocha and glanced at the clock. It was nearly two. I was thinking about what to do with myself during the afternoon when my phone pinged.