by Chelsea Luna
I was silent. It was obvious he needed to get this off his chest.
James ran his hand through his hair. “When I pushed him off of you, I didn’t mean for him to hit that tombstone. I swear I didn’t. It was so quick.”
“It was an accident.”
“I felt guilty. I killed my father. And I was all alone. I guess that’s why I blamed you, even though none of it was your fault.”
“I’m sorry for what you had to go through,” I said quietly.
“I’m sorry for what you had to go through, too.”
That night in the cemetery completely changed both of our lives. We would never be quite the same. It was something James and I shared.
I didn’t want to completely change the subject, but I wanted to stop talking about William Van Curen. The man was dead, but he still gave me the creeps. “Lucas said your aunt moved in with you.”
“Yeah, my Aunt Liz. She’s great. It actually feels like a normal house. I think she’s only sticking around until I’m of age, but it’s nice of her to help me out.”
I had to ask. “Is she…?”
“She’s my mom’s sister. As far as I know, she’s completely in the dark about Gamma and everything else.”
“I’m glad you have her in your life.”
“She’s my only living relative now. Well, I guess she’s not my only living relative….” James trailed off. His olive skin flushed a deep pink.
“I lose a stepfather, you gain an uncle.”
“Aren’t I the lucky winner,” James said darkly. “Have you seen Victor?”
I didn’t want to tell James about spying on Victor at the Gamma farmhouse. “No.”
“Really? Wow. I thought you’d run into him during the move.”
I twisted my bottle cap. “Victor never came back to the house in the Hallows. He left all of his stuff - clothes, shoes, ties, papers, everything.”
“I’m guessing you and Emma don’t ever want to see him again.”
“Heck no. It was pretty tense the first few days afterwards. I was expecting him to sneak in and try to finish me off. Or even worse, do something to Emma. I was relieved when we finally moved out of that house.” I hesitated for a second. I didn’t want to ask, but I had to. “Have you seen him?”
“Once. At my dad’s funeral.”
“Oh. I didn’t hear anything about the funeral.”
James shook his head. “It was private. Small. Weird. But Victor was there. After it was over, he tried to talk to me, but I stopped him. I told him I never wanted to see his face again.”
A wave of relief spread over me. “He left you alone?”
James pulled off his fleece sweater, displaying a white t-shirt underneath. It was cooling down, but it was still way too hot. “It was weird,” James said. “He wasn’t himself, you know? Loud, harsh and angry. He looked defeated, skittish even. I guess my dad’s death took its toll on him.”
Or maybe something else was going on with Victor. Was he in trouble? I couldn’t see him from behind the shower curtain at the Gamma house, but it was hard to imagine Victor as defeated or scared.
“I don’t want anything to do with any of that witch hunting nonsense,” James said.
“That’s nice to hear. Witch hunters are out, but witches are okay?” I asked with an attempt at a smile.
“At first, I didn’t want anything to do with you either.” He dropped his eyes. “But I realized it wasn’t your fault that you were a witch. You were who you were. And I could accept it or not. So here I am trying to make amends.”
“Thank you.”
“Your mother’s having a tough time.”
“She went from a raging alcoholic to this shell of a person. It’s too much for her to deal with, especially the whole Ethan thing.”
James frowned. “Did you know about him?”
“No. I found out Ethan was my biological father a few days before that night in the cemetery.”
“Wow.”
“Tell me about it. And to find out that his coffin was empty. It’s maddening. It’s all I think about,” I admitted.
James sank into his chair. “I wish there was a way I could make things better. You know? Right my family’s wrongs.”
I didn’t hesitate. I jumped at the opportunity. I had to know what happened to my dad. “Actually….”
James sat up straight. “What?”
“You might be able to help me.”
“Anything.”
I took a deep breath. James was my only chance at finding Jonah’s journal. I’d have to trust him. “That night in the cemetery, your dad and Victor mentioned your grandfather’s journal.”
“Grandpa Jonah?”
“Do you remember their conversation?”
“Not really,” James said. “I was kind of in shock.”
“When Simon opened Ethan’s coffin and found it empty, your dad and Victor said that if they found your grandfather’s journal, then they might know what happened to Ethan’s body.”
James nodded.
“Your Grandpa Jonah killed my father seventeen years ago, but now that Jonah’s dead, too, there’s no way of knowing what happened to Ethan’s body. But if something’s written in the journal, then-”
“You have to find that journal,” James finished.
“Right, but I don’t know where to look.”
James tapped his fingers on the table. “What about the farmhouse where you found us? Out past Harvard, in Cambridge? It’s been in my family for years.”
I bit my lip.
James’ eyes grew as big as saucers. “You already searched there?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“No, Peter went with me.”
“Wow,” James whistled. “You are tougher than I gave you credit for. How could you step foot on that property after….” James shook his head.
“I have to find out what happened to my dad. It will help Emma and it’ll give me peace of mind,” I said quietly.
“What can I do to help?”
“Tell me about Jonah. Where could the journal be? Give me some places.”
James thought for a moment. “I didn’t know Grandpa Jonah that well. He was kind of icy.” He smirked. “I see why now.”
“I can only imagine.”
“He lived alone in a small flat in Boston. He’d go to the farmhouse on occasion, but he spent the majority of his time, no scratch that, all of his time at his church.”
My stomach sank. “His church?”
“He was the head minister at a church in downtown Boston. Near Quincy Market.”
“I know that area.”
“To tell you the truth, Grandpa Jonah gave me the creeps. He was always shouting these brimstone sermons from his pulpit about how we were all sinners and going to Hell.”
I bit my tongue. He sounded exactly like a leader of the Gamma Omicron Delta fraternity.
“That’s all really.” James shrugged. “Oh, and he liked the Red Sox. Yankee fans were damned, according to him.”
“Could you give me the name of the church? Or its address?” A glimmer of hope was spreading through me. Now I had somewhere to search. I was no longer stuck in a dead end.
James narrowed his eyes. “Absolutely not.”
“What? Why?” I was shocked by the finality of his tone.
“Alex, I’m not giving you the address so you can run off alone on your treasure hunt. No way. I don’t know who’s at that church. It could be crawling with Gamma members for all I know.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “You said you’d help me.”
James smiled, displaying his dimples. “That’s right. I am. But the only way you’re getting into that church is with me. I’m going with you.”
CHAPTER 9
The tree farm was on the western edge of Hazel Cove. I’d never been to it before. Victor had our Christmas tree shipped to the house in the Hallows every year. But this was a new chapter for Emma and me. We didn’t have any fami
ly traditions, so Peter said we could borrow a LaViollette one - cutting down our own Christmas tree.
Of course, Emma wasn’t with us. I couldn’t talk her into coming. She was home alone, with the heat turned on high, staring at nothing.
We pulled into the nearly empty parking lot. Peter grabbed a handsaw out of the truck bed and we shuffled through the snowdrifts.
“Are we really going to cut down a tree?” I asked.
“I’m not sure how much sawing you’ll actually be doing, but, yeah, that’s the idea.”
“What about animals living in there?”
Peter laughed. “I’ll shake it out before we put it in the living room.”
We walked through split-railed gate. Rows and rows of Christmas trees were evenly spaced in never-ending lines. The deeper you walked into the farm, the taller the trees became.
“Wow.” I breathed in the fresh pine-filled air.
“It’s great, right? I loved doing this with my dad when we were kids. My mom and Anne Marie would come to watch with thermoses of hot chocolate.”
The lot was lit with white Christmas bulbs strung from tall poles. The air was crisp. A yellow half moon glowed bright in the clear sky. We walked down a row of trees that were at least six feet tall.
Peter pointed to a beautiful pine. “How about that one?”
“That won’t fit in the house.”
“Sure it will.”
“Maybe the house in the Hallows. You’ll never get that through the front door of our new home.”
Peter gave me an incredulous look. “Of course I can.”
“If you say so.”
Peter kneeled down and disappeared under the branches. The grinding of metal on wood erupted as Peter sawed the trunk.
“Do you need any help?” I asked.
“Not yet.”
The lot was almost empty. A few families were shopping, but not many. It was Christmas Eve and most people in Hazel Cove didn’t wait until the last minute to buy a tree. Only me. I wasn’t even sure if we should get one. Emma wasn’t in the right state of mind for the holidays and it was only the two of us. But Peter insisted.
With Peter under the tree, it felt deserted. I hugged myself to stay warm. The knee-high snow flanked by rows of tall dense trees reminded me of the giant hedge maze in the movie, The Shining, with Jack Nicholson. My eyes wandered. I don’t know what I was looking for. Rouge witch hunters? Victor?
Perfect images to conjure on Christmas Eve.
I needed to rein in my imagination, but thinking of Victor reminded me of something equally unpleasant. I hadn’t told Peter about James and me making amends. More importantly, I needed to tell Peter about my proposed trip with James to visit Jonah Van Curen’s church in Boston. I didn’t want to upset Peter and bringing up plans with James would definitely do that. On the other hand, I didn’t want a repeat of the last time I’d kept plans with James a secret.
“So, James stopped by the house yesterday.” I sat on the cold ground beside Peter and the tree.
Silence and sawing. Maybe he didn’t hear me?
“Oh, yeah,” Peter said after awhile.
“Yup.”
“What for?”
“To apologize for those mean things he said.”
“He’s lucky I haven’t run into him and that I wasn’t at your house when he stopped by.”
I scooped up a clump of snow and shaped it into a perfectly round snowball. I launched the snowball into a tree across the row. The compacted powder exploded upon impact and, thankfully, no animals scattered.
“James was polite,” I said. “He’s been really messed up since everything happened with his dad.”
“His father was a whack-job.”
“But James isn’t.”
“So you say.”
“He didn’t have to save me that night,’ I said quietly. I didn’t want to defend James, but it was the truth. If James hadn’t pushed his father off of me, then I wouldn’t be sitting in this Christmas tree lot.
Peter snorted. “And he didn’t have to say those things to you at his locker.”
“True.”
“But I get it,” Peter said taking a break from sawing. He stayed under the canopy of the tree branches, so I couldn’t see his face. Only his legs.
“Really?”
“James is in a bad situation. He doesn’t have anyone to blame, because the only one to blame is his dad. And since he feels guilty about killing his father, he can’t at the same time blame him, too. So, naturally he blamed you.”
“Look at you, Mr. Logical.”
“I understand - in a sense- what he’s going through, but that doesn’t mean I’ll put up with him treating you like that.”
“I don’t think he will anymore. He felt really bad about it,” I said
“Good.”
That went better than expected. But I was no fool. Now was not the time to mention my upcoming trip to Boston with James. Not on Christmas Eve. I’d just have to tell Peter before we went to search for Jonah’s journal.
And when Peter didn’t have a handsaw within reach.
* * *
Emma was mesmerized by the aquarium. Inside the glass box were dozens of fireflies blinking on and off around tangles of grass and weeds. Her eyes shifted from side to side and up and down following the little insects.
Peter and I were on the floor in front of the giant Christmas tree - one that fit through the front door - surrounded by a sea of discarded wrapping paper. This year was a sad Christmas with the death of Grandma Claudia so recent, but in a way it was a very good Christmas. We were alive. Emma and I were free from Victor. This was our family. Emma and me and Peter.
I felt guilty that Peter was here so early on Christmas morning, but he assured me a dozen times that Anne Marie woke up at five in the morning to open presents. Mrs. LaViollette and Anne Marie were already napping from the early rise.
“Anybody want more coffee?” I rose to my feet and shrugged off the red pea coat Peter bought me for Christmas. I couldn’t wait to wear it outside, but it was ridiculously hot in the house again, so I placed it on the coat rack near the front door.
Peter was lying on his stomach fiddling with the iPod I bought him. Scooby was next to him, in almost the same position, chewing on a new bone.
All of Emma’s gifts were scattered around her, hardly noticed because she was so captivated by the fireflies. Peter had searched pet stores all over northern Massachusetts and southern New Hampshire to find the fireflies.
I received a murmur of no’s and went to the kitchen to collect supplies. I finally found the spell I’d been looking for in my grandmother’s spell book. It was a protection spell and, if done correctly, would protect everyone inside of the house from anyone trying to enter our house with ill intentions. The spell sounded right up my alley. I debated over doing magic on Christmas morning, but I figured the sooner I protected Emma and me, the better. Seconds shouldn’t be wasted.
I grabbed the salt from the cabinet above the oven, a glass mixing bowl, a bottle of vinegar and then scooped a pile of dirt from the plant behind the sink and tossed it into a plastic bag. I tucked a water bottle under my arm and headed out of the kitchen.
Peter hopped to his feet. “Now? What about…?” His blue eyes trailed to Emma.
I’d never performed magic in front of my mother or while she was awake in the house, but I was eager to invoke this protection spell. Especially since James enlightened me about Victor’s weird behavior.
“Mom?”
No response. I handed all of items to Peter and knelt down beside her. She had her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped protectively around her legs. Her eyes never left the aquarium.
“Mom? Can you hear me?”
Emma blinked. All of a sudden, a slow smile spread across her face. I hadn’t seen her smile in ages. Emma slowly raised her hand - I tried not to flinch out of reflex - and caressed my cheek.
Touched by the unusual reaction, it took me a
second to remember what I was going to say. “Mom, Peter and I will be in my bedroom if you need us. We’ll take you over to Mrs. LaViollette’s house in a little bit, okay?”
She turned back to the aquarium with the same content smile on her face. We left her alone in the living room. I closed and locked my bedroom door behind Peter.
“Do you think she’s coming out of whatever funk she’s been in?”
“Maybe,” Peter said. “Do you think it was the fireflies?”
“Could be. Maybe she’s thinking about Ethan.” I took the mixing bowl and other ingredients from Peter and placed them on the carpet in the middle of the room.
“What do you want me to do?” Peter pulled off his sweater and tossed it on the bed, revealing his Hazel Cove High hockey t-shirt.
“Find all the candles that you can and pull the blinds shut.” I went to the closet and pulled up the floorboard to retrieve the spell book. I broke off a splinter of wood from the floorboard to use as my “cementer” for the spell. The spell book was at the bottom of the pile, underneath Grandma Claudia’s journal and Sarah Ross’ journal.
I sat on the floor in the middle of the room and poured the entire contents of the water bottle into the mixing bowl. I flipped to the earmarked page. The spell was entitled, Il Gaurdenarium.
“I think I’m set,” I said to Peter who was standing awkwardly near the window. I patted the carpet a few feet away from me. “You can sit here, if you want to. You just can’t be inside the circle.”
Peter made a face. “Of course I want to. I was hoping you wouldn’t kick me out of the room for this.”
I struck a match and lit the candles in a semi circle in front of me. The piece of wood from the floorboard floated in the mixing bowl of water. I poured a line of salt in a perfect circle around the ingredients and myself.
“I hope the vacuum works,” I said quietly, trying to keep the mood light. “Or else I’m not sure how I’m going to clean up all of this salt.”
I was really nervous. This was the first spell I’d ever attempted. To top it off, I couldn’t shake the memory of a dream I had a few months ago about Megan Lackey.
Megan was a local girl who went missing in October. It turned out she was a witch (a half witch) and was killed by William, Victor and the other members of Gamma. The reason her memory was haunting me was because of a nightmare I had about Megan’s abduction. In the dream, Megan was casting a spell on her bedroom floor moments before intruders broke into her house.