The Flower Bowl Spell

by Olivia Boler

  “It’s not him they want,” she whispers after I’ve worn myself out. We both glance towards the living room where the girls sit watching TV. “He’s just a pawn.”

  “I know,” I say through my sniffles. “And pawns are expendable.”

  “They’re also incredibly strong.”

  We pull away from each other. Auntie Tess offers me a clean, soft hankie from her pocket. I blow my nose while she opens her pantry and pulls out a bottle of merlot. She pours herself a generous glassful, downing it without letting it breathe. “We’re going to get him back. I’ll help you.”

  “Thank you.”

  She glances at the clock. “It’s seven now. We’d better order that food. Then we’ll figure out what we need to do until you have to get to the meadow.”

  “Okay.”

  She pours me a glass of the red wine. “I have just one question. You can see fairies?”

  “Yes, but they’re more of a pain in the ass than you’d think. And I can’t hear them. What do you think this is all about, Tess?”

  She paces the kitchen a bit, and I watch, waiting for her to figure out what I can’t.

  “I can’t believe Gru would be involved in this. Unless she’s gone crazy or has Alzheimer’s.” She stops. “Then again, she did like being head priestess.”

  “You think this is about a power grab?” I say.

  She doesn’t answer right away. “I’ve heard some disturbing things lately that are starting to make sense,” she finally says. “Things about a very powerful group of witches trying to form a coven with dark, iniquitous magick. But they were supposed to be based in Canada—Vancouver, I think. Someplace up north.”

  I snap my fingers. “Vancouver, Washington. That’s where Cheradon Badler is from. And that’s where Gru’s son Isaac was when he pulled a ghosty.” No wonder Gru is involved. I just wish I could figure out how.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The girls barely touch their chicken quesadillas. I’m having a hard time eating too, but the wine is still going down nicely. Only Auntie Tess hasn’t lost her appetite. They have questions about their mother, but it’s not long before we tuck them in for the night on the foldout sofa bed. Tess and I retreat again to the kitchen where I scan through Tucker’s notebook as well as some of Tess’s witchcraft books, looking for a way to save Cooper. They don’t need him for the Flower Bowl Spell. They just want to get to me. Can they honestly think I’d give up the girls?

  I use Auntie Tess’s computer to run searches on Stinky’s phone number to try to ID him, but the number is to a disposable cell phone. There’s nothing in our reading material that’s helpful or new either. I’m just going to have to wait until I see them at the meadow and wing it. For the time being, I need a distraction.

  “Tell me about Viveka,” I say to Auntie Tess. “You saw her in the Mellora Islands?”

  “Didn’t you get my text?”

  Right. The truncated text message. “It was cut off. Did you get mine? I asked you about Familiars. After the ducks showed up.”

  She shakes her head and takes a sip of wine. “I ran into her there when I went to town one day. She told me about that dying man and why she left the girls with you—because Cleo told her to.”

  “Cleo told her to?” Why am I not surprised? “A three-year-old told her to abandon her kids with a person they’ve never met?” And who has since put their lives in danger? I gulp some wine myself.

  Auntie Tess nods. “She’s gifted, you know. Like you.”

  “Like me…whatever.”

  Tess squeezes my arm. “Lamb, you can see fairies. That’s a gift. I remember that day you saw the dolls and gophers dancing. I know you tried to tell me about it over the years. I don’t know why you think you have to hide it from me.”

  “I don’t, I just…” I put my glass on the counter. “I thought you were jealous.”

  Tess laughs. “Jealous? Me? Of course I’m jealous. Well, maybe that’s too strong a world. Envious is nicer. But it couldn’t have happened to someone I love and care about more. And I know you use your gifts and talents the right way. Not like some.”

  I think of Stinky and Cheradon. And Tyson. He certainly couldn’t see what was going on with my hula girl doll. How far does this dark magick reach?

  “Listen,” Auntie Tess goes on. “Viveka accepts that her daughter is special. She said Cleo has told her things before, things that no one else could know.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, a few months ago Romola fell into a sinkhole on their property. She was all alone, but Cleo knew it had happened. And that man Viveka went to see—it’s Cleo who told her he won’t live. In fact, Jesus Christ counts on Cleo to tell him which parishioners he should lay hands on and which don’t have a shot.”

  I think about this last detail, wondering if I feel offended at J.C.’s use of his daughter’s gift, or warmed that he’s bringing her into the family business. “Can she heal?”

  Tess shakes her head. “Not that I know of. But who knows? Maybe someday.”

  “So why did she tell Viveka to leave her and Romola with me?”

  “Viveka told me there was some sort of danger, and that’s why Cleo told her to bring them to you. But she didn’t tell her mother anything more. She didn’t seem to know how to describe it. She’s not even four yet, so that’s no surprise.”

  Danger is right. Tears well in my eyes and Tess pulls me to her again.

  I think of the grisly and bizarre ingredients for the Flower Bowl Spell that I’ve been studying in Tucker’s notebook. Fairy wings and fetuses. But what if it’s even worse than that, if it can actually be any worse? What if they want the girls? Human sacrifice, for obvious reasons, isn’t a part of modern craft teachings. It never would have crossed my mind that Gru might be into something like that.

  I wipe my eyes on a paper napkin.

  “Cooper is going to be fine,” Auntie Tess says.

  “He’d better be.” I’m worried, but also pissed off. “When is Viveka coming back?”

  Tess shrugs. “I suppose when that man dies.”

  I wonder when that will be, and if Jesus Christ will be willing to wait for her. I reach out with my mind to check up on him. He’s busy with some of the church’s high-rollers, laughing over an expensive dinner like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  Auntie Tess breaks into my thoughts. “I can’t believe Gru would harm you or her great-grandchildren.”

  “Me either. She did warn me to get to safety. That’s something.”

  Tess agrees.

  “But I’m not going to be safe, and Cooper and the girls aren’t going to be safe, unless I can end this.” Tucker’s confrontation, just as he predicted.

  Auntie Tess puts her hands on my cheeks and looks into my eyes. “You will end it, Memphis. Just tell me what I can do to help.”

  ****

  The field is deserted when I arrive, just as the post-midnight moon rises round over the tops of the trees. My messenger bag is filled with Auntie Tess’s herbs and potions.

  There’s just enough light from the surrounding lamps that network the perimeter of the field, along with the moon, for me to set up. I pull out the herbs from Tess’s cabinet. She wanted to come with me, but I managed to convince her that watching the girls was what I really need her to do. As I get ready, though, I wonder if I should have brought her along after all.

  I grab Tucker’s Flower Bowl Spell notebook from my bag. I spent the last few hours at Tess’s kitchen table going over it again, especially his counter-curse. Tucker has never had the opportunity to try this out, so I have no idea if it will work. But it’s all I have.

  As I put things in their place, I take a moment to look around. I wonder if they chose Lindley Meadow on purpose. This is the field where it all began, where I first realized that I had a window onto another plane. Why me? I’ve sometimes wondered. And the answer is always, Why not? I’m not such a bad candidate for super-cool abilities.

  I set up a p
rotective circle with salt. Inside, I lay down a wooden board covered in cloth, my old on-the-go altar. Black and white candles, a jade dragon (my mother’s old pendant she gave me for my high school graduation), and two ceramic dishes, one in the shape of the sun, the other a full moon with a small rabbit nestling against it.

  It’s amazing how simple the spell is, really. A little nutmeg, some moss from the rocks on Stow Lake. (In his notes, Tucker prefers Icelandic, but northern Californian will have to do.) Lots and lots of heather. I couldn’t find any hazelnuts, so I brought along a jar of Nutella from Tess’s pantry, and I smear its chocolaty goodness on some sticks and leaves of eucalyptus, which is in overabundance throughout the park. I pour the concoction into the bowl just as Xien alights on my altar.

  “Hey! You found me.” I strike a match. “Of course you found me. I don’t know how, but you did.”

  He shakes his fist at me.

  “The rattle? That bell thing. I know I should use it more often.”

  He nods.

  “They got my boyfriend, you know.”

  I’m just about to say something else, but Xien swivels away towards the trees before stopping and hovering in place. Someone is coming. Someone who smells like vanilla and citrus. I strain my eyes to see. There’s more than one person, and they are dressed in dark colors, their pale faces floating towards us. As they get closer, I’m surprised not by who is there, but by my own disappointment, both in the fact that they really have shown up and that I might really be screwed.

  There’s Cheradon, her manager D.B., Stinky, and a couple of others—Babs and one of the twins from Arsenic Playground carrying a heavy-looking, carved elephant tusk. Bringing up the rear is Tyson, his sunglasses on, keeping his gaze to the ground. And Cooper.

  Tyson has a hold on Cooper, whose arms are behind his back. Bound, just as I saw them. They’re about ten feet from my sacred space when they stop.

  “Please tell me you aren’t into devil worship,” I say. “I mean, a rock band, never mind its ska roots, loving Satan? Can we say cliché?”

  They don’t answer at first, perhaps thrown off by my façade of sass.

  “We abhor the devil,” Cheradon says. “We are not impressed by his so-called power.”

  I nod. “Thank you for clearing that up, Cheryl.”

  She shakes her head, hands on her hips. “Sweetie, Cheryl was my slave name.” She seems a little pissy, though I suppose this situation calls for that. “Aren’t you even going to say anything about your old man?”

  I take a better look at Cooper, squinting at him across the weakly lit expanse. There are dark stains on his face and shirt, and his hair is matted down. His glasses sit askew on his nose. The stains, I realize, are blood. He can barely keep his eyes open, and he looks almost relaxed.

  “Believe me,” Cheradon says. “He feels worse than he looks.”

  “What do you have him on, some kind of magickal nitrous oxide?” I ask.

  She glances at her manager. “How should I know? Anyway, the fact that he’s going to die is all your fault of course.”

  My heart slows for a millisecond, then starts pounding away, but I don’t let it show on my face. I can’t or I’m dead. I’m pretty sure of that. “How so?”

  “We never wanted to go this far. All we wanted was,” she shrugs, “what we deserve. Our rightful place in the world.”

  I really have no idea what she’s talking about.

  “But you make it so very difficult. Although, I will say, that’s part of the fun. How do you live with that?”

  I just stare at her. No way am I going to take the bait.

  “I mean, knowing you basically killed Alice with your bogus protection spell?”

  I will not be mind-fucked by her, thank you very much. I try to ramp up my anger so my heart is pounding in rage instead of in terror.

  “And knowing that this”—she gestures at Cooper—“this upstanding citizen, your lover and father to an adorable girl, is going to die because of you?”

  “Wow, you really do yammer on,” I say. “It seems that Cheradon is another of your slave names, Cheryl,” I say. “Unless you’re the one heading up this Flower Bowl Spell operation?”

  “Don’t answer that,” D.B. says. His black silk dress shirt shimmers in the moonlight. If there were a devil, D.B. could play the better-looking version of him in the movie.

  “Didn’t think so. What I don’t understand is why you had to kill Gladys,” I continue, glad that my voice isn’t quivering. “Wasn’t she on your side?”

  Still hanging back, Tyson seems to stir. Cheradon looks confused. “Who is Gladys?”

  “Don’t ask questions,” D.B. says to me. I take in his slender, elegant frame. Cheradon’s uncertainty gives me a morsel of hope.

  “Excuse me, but you are not the boss of me.” I turn back to Cheradon. “Gladys was a friend of your aunt Sadie and your grandmother.” Cheradon frowns. “She was someone that guy killed.” I point to Stinky. “For this.” I pull the butterfly-shaped locket out of my collar and show it to them. Doesn’t matter that I still haven’t figured the damn thing out. They don’t need to know that.

  “Gladys was a terrible lover and a poor witch who did not know where to put her loyalties,” Stinky says. It’s the first time I remember hearing his voice, and it’s just like a stage actor’s, rich and dangerous.

  “She was your lover?” I say. I’m sad at how low Gladys’s tastes had sunk.

  “I allowed her in my bed on occasion,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Cheradon still looks befuddled. “Aunt Sadie?” She turns to Stinky. “Papa, is that true? Did you kill Aunt Sadie’s friend?”

  Everything slows down for a second. Stinky, aka Isaac LeBrun. He glares at his daughter and then turns to me. I didn’t know who was in charge before, but now I do. And things start to speed up again.

  Subtly, they all spread out around the circle. Tyson pushes Cooper down onto his knees. He topples over and seems to get comfy in a fetal position.

  I feel Xien at the back of my neck, the soft tickle of his beating wings. We are a team watching out for each other. As I move, so does he.

  My lit match has long since gone out. I strike another one and drop it in the bowl. A dramatic little puff of flames goes up and I begin to recite the words Tucker wrote under my breath.

  “Reverse their work. Turn back the curse. Reverse—” But something is happening. I’m choking again. I look for Isaac. His dark eyes are boring into mine, and he’s grinning through the stubble on his face. Apparently, my protective salt circle is more than a tad inadequate.

  “You stupid bitch,” Cheradon says. “You can’t counter something that hasn’t even happened yet.” She laughs a punky little laugh. “We don’t even have the last ingredient yet, lovey.” She reaches for my arm and my heart feels like it is dropping into my bowels. “You.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Never underestimate a crone, I decide way too late. I have to conclude, as D.B. slaps handcuffs on my wrists and wrestles me to the ground, that Gru set me up. Gru, who I thought would never do anything to hurt me.

  The gang moves forward and into my no-longer sacred space. On the ground, with the side of my face mashed into the damp grass, I can’t see much of what’s going on. There’s a lot of rattling and the soft padding and heavy stomping back and forth of booted feet around me. The weak lights of my candles go out, and it’s not long until they’re replaced by the heat of a much-larger fire. I can feel it on my legs, and its glow throws new shadows on the ground. My mind seems to detach, and the panic that has gripped me loosens. This can’t be it.

  I follow the shadows on the ground to their termination, and that’s when I notice the animals. They stand on the edges of the light, still and unnoticed by my captors. I don’t know how many there are, but I see coyotes, squirrels, gophers, garter snakes, and frogs peeking out from between blades of grass. Perched in trees, owls watch us. They sit or stand at attention, still and unrea
dable.

  I try to reach out to Gru, to find out where she could be, not just physically, but her place in this scheme. She is a powerful witch, and she’s blocking me I’m sure. Blocking seems to be an issue for me. I wiggle my hands, but they are bound tight. If I get out of this jam, I promise myself, I’ll work on counterspells for blocking.

  I manage to shift a little and see Cooper lying a few feet away. The ground seems especially dewy where his head lies, and I tell myself it’s not blood. I love him, I do, but I am seriously considering releasing him from our bond. If we get out of this.

  A soft fluttering sensation against my shackled wrists draws my attention away from Cooper. It tickles and I stretch my head around for a better look. Xien is hovering over the handcuffs, working his sword into the keyhole like a locksmith’s pick. I put my head down, just in case they can see him. Shit. What if they can see him? Cheradon and her crew are too busy to pay much attention to me right this second. Apparently, there’s some disagreement afoot.

  Cheradon is saying, “I know we cut off her toes and half her feet. But what’s the other part? It’s the spleen, right? What else would it be?”

  “Cher, that doesn’t make any sense.” D.B.’s voice is coaxing. “Not everyone has their spleen. Why would it call for slaying if your sacrifice could live without it? It’s got to be something with more importance—at least, you know, emotional importance.”

  “No, you’re wrong. Not everyone has their appendix but we’re all emotionally attached to our spleens. Isn’t that right, Ty? And you only have to slay because it’s part of the energy burst.”

  “People don’t need their appendix either, dummy.” D.B. is growing impatient. Mean even. “Ah ha, here’s the part. It’s the uterus that’s called for. That’s what it says in the spell.” There’s a slapping sound, like a hand on paper, which I’m guessing is the Flower Bowl Spell all written out.

  “Let me see.”

  Silence for a while.

  “No,” Cheradon says. “We’re both wrong. It says the womb.”