Hell's Belles

by Alison Claire

  Josephine’s cries shook the room. “He’s my entire happiness. Why do I always have to give that up? Every time, this is what happens.”

  Aleta touched Josephine’s arm. “You know why that is. It’s the price we pay.”

  Fiona came for Josephine an hour later. She didn’t leave my side until she absolutely had to.

  “I love you, Emma,” Josephine hugged my neck tight.

  No one had ever told me this besides my parents and Merritt. I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “You too, Jo.” Because it was true.

  Fiona walked in and when she saw me, she exhaled. It was as if she had been holding her breath on her drive across the marshland to me.

  “Virginia wanted me to tell you that she’ll visit you in a few days once things have calmed down,” Fiona brushed back my hair from my face. I could see tears in her eyes. “I can’t wait to tell her how good you look. Dr. Ibis is taking such great care of our Emma. Virginia is sick with worry over you.”

  I held Fiona’s hand and whispered to her, “You have to tell her it was Palmer. Palmer Martin saved me. Dr. Ibis would have had nothing to work with…”

  “It’s time to go, Fiona,” Aleta interrupted. “Make sure no one has followed you. I have eyes on Zillah. She’s at her house. Calista is distracting her.”

  Fiona nodded and looked at me. “I’ll let her know,” she assured me.

  The two of them left but Aleta remained. She had swept her long braids up into a bun and wore distressed jeans and a t-shirt. In the dim lighting of Dr. Ibis’s home, she looked so young. Her presence was a relief. Dr. Ibis intimidated me a bit and for the time being, I didn’t want to be alone with anyone I didn’t know.

  Chapter 23

  Sleep was hard to come by that night. I dreamt of the fall, the Cooper River coming at me, the pain of the smack as my feet hit the water. Clearly, my ability had been the reason I survived. I felt my bones shatter on impact. But had Palmer not found me, I wouldn’t have stood a chance.

  And Zillah. She had been so convincingly concerned, so assured that I should do as the Sirens told me. But why? Why did it happen at all? Had she been part of this?

  I turned over in my bed, stirring and sweaty in my thin cotton sheets. I was terrified that she would come back and find me. Aleta had told me she could appear out of thin air. All she needed was a shadow. This made me grateful for the cloak of night. Zillah couldn’t come to me unless there was sunlight. Most of the time the dark is supposed to scare you. But with the realization of Zillah’s limits I was immediately grateful that, at night, I was safe.

  But I still couldn’t sleep. Giving in to my temporary insomnia, I sat up and listened to the quiet of Dr. Ibis’s home. My room wasn’t actually a room at all. It was part of the larger living area that was attached to a grand kitchen. I could see Aleta sleeping on a futon in the corner, only feet away from me.

  As my eyes adjusted to the palmetto moon’s light illuminating the walls, I could see they were painted a very pale blue. As a matter of fact, that same color blue was all over everything. The sheets I slept in were the same color as was the cushion on Aleta’s futon. The floors were a sturdy wood but the rugs were also robin egg blue.

  “Guess it’s his favorite color,” I whispered out loud to no one.

  “You could definitely say that.”

  A voice from the dark corner of the kitchen made me jump out of my skin.

  Dr. Ibis sat at a small table, one bony leg crossed over another, sipping something out of a coffee mug.

  “Holy shit, you scared me,” I said, my heart still racing. Dr. Ibis smiled.

  “I didn’t mean to, child. You’re the one speaking in the dark.”

  “True,” I admitted. “I just can’t sleep. There’s too much in my head.”

  Dr. Ibis set his mug down. I thought he was going to stand up and walk over to me, but instead he stared at me intently for a few moments.

  “Emma Ayers, no one wishes you harm here.”

  I uncomfortably shifted where I was sitting in the bed. “I know.”

  “But you don’t know. It’s why you don’t sleep. Your body is not completely healed, my child. It cannot heal if your head isn’t right. I will help you.”

  I opened my mouth to protest but something stopped me. He was already up anyway, quick as a whip, pulling out something from his cabinets.

  I wrung my hands nervously. Glancing over at Aleta, I could see she was still deep asleep. Shouldn’t her powers be able to sense I was awake and that I needed her? Dr. Ibis was muttering something near the sink. I couldn’t quite make it out, but it sounded like he was praying.

  “Dr. Ibis?” I said. He didn’t answer.

  I waited as he finished what he was doing. Expecting something strange again, like the tea earlier, I braced myself to have the courage to decline whatever he’d offer me.

  But as he walked over, I could see he had a simple glass with water in it.

  “Here, sweet child.” He handed it to me. “Make sure to drink just a little bit. It’s important you don’t drink all of it, and place it on the night stand. In the morning you must not drink it. Just dump it out when you use the restroom, yes?”

  I looked at him, knowing I must have seemed confused. “So a glass of water will help me sleep?”

  He nodded and waved at me to take a sip. “Yes. It’s night water. Drink it up. It will keep the bad feelings at bay. Clear your head as clear as the water itself.”

  Hesitantly, I put the glass to my lips. Taking a tentative sip, there was nothing strange about it. It was just water.

  “Thanks,” I said. He walked over toward me.

  “And this,” he said holding up what looked like roots. “This goes under your pillow.”

  He lifted up the pillow (which was blue, of course) and placed two roots underneath.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Ginger,” he said. “Keeps the bad away. Helps to protect your mind. Try it for tonight. You need your rest, Emma Ayers. Your body must heal but your spirit must heal even more.”

  He lightly touched my shoulder. I slowly laid back down and he covered me with my sheet. I looked up at him like a small child being tucked in. At that moment I felt like one of Dr. Ibis’s own and suddenly I was at ease.

  “Drink more water if you need to,” he said. “But now you will close your eyes and sleep until the sun greets you and a new day begins.”

  My eyes were shut before he had even finished his sentence. And after that, there was just dreamless, full slumber.

  The next morning, I awoke to a black cat crawling on my chest.

  “Sorry. That’s Sumter,” Aleta sat next to me. She had changed into new clothes and was reading a magazine. The sunlight streamed through the windows and hit her face in a way that made her look iridescent. Aleta Indigo was the only girl I knew that could give Calista a run for her money in the beauty department.

  “Oh. Hi, Sumter,” I said petting his back. He purred.

  “Make sure to throw your water out,” Aleta reminded me, nodding at the glass that sat half empty on the nightstand.

  “How did you know?” I asked.

  “We all need night water sometimes.”

  I picked up the glass. “Where’s the bathroom?” Aleta gestured to the hallway.

  Groggily, I sauntered down a short hall to a tiny bathroom with a toilet, a standing only shower, and a sink with a bowl for a basin.

  I dumped my night water into the toilet and peed. I had to admit, even if it had probably been a psychological trick, I had slept great last night. Once I cleaned myself up, I returned to Aleta. I was surprised I was able to walk as well as I was. Despite a little soreness, I felt perfectly fine. No one would guess that only just the previous day I had free-fallen 200 feet into a river and been rescued by a mythological creature. I just looked like I’d been up too late.

  Aleta was putting up my bed. It was a twin mattress on a foldable frame.

  “Oh, I know this sou
nds weird, but there were ginger roots under my pillow.”

  Aleta barely blinked. “Yeah, I got them. No worries.”

  “You don’t seem surprised by that,” I said, sitting down at the table Dr. Ibis had been at last night.

  “Of course not.” She pushed the folded up cot into a large closet. “He used to put them under my pillow back in the day to keep the hag from riding me.”

  “Um, what?” I said. “The hag?”

  Aleta nodded. “The boo hag. The evil spirits that sit on your chest at night to suck your energy away. Although, he really didn’t need to give you a root. This house is covered in haint blue. I’ve never once felt the presence of a hag here. I’m sure he just wanted to assure you of your safety.”

  My head spun. “Aleta, can you please speak English? I’ve dealt with enough crazy.”

  Aleta laughed. “It’s not crazy. Dr. Ibis and I are Geechee. Or Gullah, which might be something you’re familiar with.”

  My mind went back to a distant memory of a family trip to Hilton Head with Grandma. We had flown into Charlotte and made the drive down to the beach in a rental car. On our way in, we made a stop at St Helena Island. My mother’s idea of course. She wanted to teach us about the unique Gullah culture, and St Helena was the center of it.

  Other than that, I didn’t remember much of what I learned. I had been maybe eight or nine at the time. My mind had most likely been on water parks and the beach.

  “Very vaguely. Familiar, that is,” I said.

  Aleta nodded her head. “Yeah, I remember peeking in on you, hoping it might connect with your spirit. But you were too young. I sold your father a sweetgrass basket.”

  I smiled. “I remember that basket. He used to keep the weekly newspapers and magazines in it.”

  “Yes. I’m glad you remember it. Well, my people have their own philosophy on life. We deal with life’s troubles in unconventional ways.”

  “Like ginger roots under the pillow? And night water?” I asked.

  “Those are two things. There are too many others to count. But my uncle only wants the best for you. He’s very close with Virginia. There’s no one any of us could trust more. And no person better to protect us in the rare instances where we can’t protect ourselves,” Aleta explained. “Like yesterday.”

  I held my face in my hands. “I wish there was a way I could forget that horrible moment.” My body shook. I was nauseated just thinking about how it felt to fall.

  Aleta looked at me, concern marking her perfect features.

  “Emma,” she said slowly. “I’m capable of making the memory of it go away. If you need me to do that, I will. I won’t take everything from yesterday away, because it’s important for you to remember the danger you were in. But if it will help heal you, I will take the fall away.”

  Tears filled my eyes. My heart sprinted against my chest. “Please. I would love for you to do that. How?”

  Aleta stepped toward me. “I need to find it, first. The mind is complex. There are certain things that are easy for me to find. Some of your thoughts and memories are just on the surface, like a lily pad on top of a pond. I can see it and easily pluck it. Manipulate it. But there are deeper things, the things you repress. I have to search for them. Because this is a painful moment, it’s deep in your psyche. Seeing it is simple, because it only just happened. But removing it, that’s a little more complicated. So I will need you to be patient and very still.”

  “Does it hurt?” I asked. “It sounds like you’re editing a film. Just splicing the part out that you don’t need.”

  “You’re actually pretty right on with that analogy,” she said. “It’s not so unlike that. It’s not painful and you won’t hurt. But it will be a strange sensation, something that might scare you at first. I will try my best to be quick. I’ve had to do this with others at various points. I’m no novice. But I want you to fully understand what it entails. There will be a small gap from when you were on the bridge to when you woke up here. I’m going to take Palmer out of your memory as well, for his own protection and yours. I am not the only telepath in this world. I don’t want your mind to ever be in the wrong hands. That one memory hurts you and reveals things that could hurt others.”

  I went over what she was saying in my mind, a mind I knew she could read at any point if she wanted to. Every time I thought of the fall and the terror I felt when I first realized what was happening, was inexplicably terrible. I didn’t see any use for having it. If it meant I could feel better and less frightened, then so be it.

  “I’m ready,” I said, confident in my decision. “Let’s do it.”

  Having someone sort through your memories is an uncomfortable feeling.

  Having them pulled out wasn’t painful. After it was over, which probably took about ten minutes, I felt like one does when their long hair has been chopped off. I kept grabbing for it, but could feel nothing. I was relieved. There was a peace.

  I sat at the kitchen table as Aleta made breakfast. The sizzle of the pan was comforting. It reminded me of Saturday mornings in California. It would be Mom and I, always up early. Sundays were for sleeping in but Saturdays, for whatever reason, were my time with her. Merritt would wake up once the aroma of pancakes reached her room. It was something I had loved so much, but didn’t realize until now.

  “Aleta, what kind of doctor is your uncle?”

  Aleta laughed softly, busying herself over the stove. “He’s a root doctor. You’ve heard of witch doctors in Africa? Or Native Americans have a medicine man or a shaman?”

  “Yes, of course,” I replied.

  “He’s like that. My people don’t have access to traditional doctors or medicine in most cases. So we made do with what was available. Nature. Plants and animals from the islands. And spirits. Some who traveled with us when we were brought over from western Africa, some we met here.”

  “Where is the doctor?” I asked, as Aleta flipped a pancake on the griddle.

  “Probably at Angel Oak,” she replied. “Do you want eggs?”

  “No, just a couple pancakes will work.” I rested my head in the crook of my elbow.

  “And grits. He keeps Geechee Grits in the cupboard.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “What’s Angel Oak?”

  Aleta put a small pot on the stove and set the temperature. “It’s a live oak that’s over 1500 years old. On Johns Island. About fifteen minutes from us.”

  “What does he do there?” I asked, my stomach rumbling. I couldn’t wait for the food to be ready.

  “Visits. Meditates. Seeks guidance,” Aleta said. “It’s a sanctuary for him.”

  She set a plate of two hot pancakes in front of me. I smothered both with butter and the maple syrup she had set down in the middle of the table.

  “What happens now?” I asked. It was hard to believe, but I missed the other girls. Especially Virginia. She was the closest thing I had to a mother now. It was hard for me to understand why she hadn’t come here to Frogmore to make sure I was okay. I felt abandoned.

  “She couldn’t be here, Emma,” Aleta stared at me intently from the stove.

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to read my thoughts unless I gave you permission.”

  “Some thoughts reach out to me without me even trying to find them. They sit blatantly on top of your head and anyone can see them. She would never abandon you.” Aleta walked over, her voice more serious. “Virginia would rather die than ever lose you again.”

  “Again? When did she lose me the first time?” I asked. “And why can’t she be here?”

  Aleta ignored the first question. “She can’t be here because as far as anyone knows, you’re dead. They’re still looking for your body in the Cooper even as we sit here. Virginia is dealing with the media. Word got out that she’s your guardian. One of Zillah’s people, probably.”

  I stopped chewing for a moment. “That’s pretty weird. How the hell is that going to work? Do I have to hide forever?”

  Aleta sho
ok her head. “Certainly not. But maybe for a while. Maybe not for long at all. But for now, Virginia can’t come here. She’d be followed and you’d be found and since we have no idea what we’re dealing with, we have to wait.”

  “Does Zillah know about Dr. Ibis?” I asked, goosebumps rising on my arms at the thought of her.

  “She definitely knows about the doctor. But she can’t come here. Remember how I told you Calista can’t either?”

  I nodded. “Yes. She’s not allowed?”

  “It’s not that she’s not allowed. She can’t because a root was put on her.”

  I shook my head. “A root? What?”

  Aleta poured the grits into the now-boiling water on the stove. She stirred them in as I sat there waiting for an explanation.

  “It’s a long story,” she finally said. “But I suppose you should hear it. And we have all the time in the world, at this point.”

  As we sat at that table, Aleta Indigo introduced me to the start of a story that would be the basis for everything I would eventually learn on Frogmore Island.

  MARIE DIXON

  Marie Dixon was born with a destiny. That had been obvious from the beginning. She was born the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter in the middle of a terrible hurricane, one that would submerge the islands her family called home. Her birth was always thought to be the cause of the storm, making people wary of her from the beginning.

  Shortly after her first birthday, her mother died. With that tragedy there was no more room for doubt; Marie Dixon was a conjure woman before she was ever given a choice.

  Marie lived on a long-since abandoned plantation with her very large extended family. The plantation had been left almost two decades prior by its white owners, who fled once Union troops took over the barrier islands off the South Carolina coast during the Civil War. The troops, not knowing what to do with the slaves left behind by their owners, eventually parceled out some of the land to the very people who had previously been forced to work it.