How To Recognize A Demon Has Become Your Friend (Necon Modern Horror Book 9)

by Linda Addison

  “Okay.” Angelique took each step like a baby learning to climb stairs for the first time, but finally got to the top and pulled herself into the attic.

  Boxes, trunks and old furniture crowded the floor. It smelled musty and a fine layer of dust had settled on all the surfaces.

  “It’s not very clean up here.” Angelique touched a carton. She wiped her fingers on her jeans.

  “Don’t say that too loud. Grandmom will have us up here with a bucket and rags, cleaning.” Brenda took a couple of old towels from a box in the corner, threw one at Angelique and used the other to wipe off the top of a wood box. “Some of these things are from when Grandmom moved here to help take care of me after Mommy died.”

  “Let’s see what’s in here.” She read the label. “‘Brenda baby toys’, not very interesting. What’s that trunk near you say, Angelique?”

  She wiped off the dust. “It’s my mother’s toys.”

  “Now that’s more like it.” Brenda unbuckled the leather straps and flipped open the trunk. The acrid scent of mothballs drifted into the air.

  There were baby blankets on top, inside plastic bags. Underneath were baby clothes in shades of pink, yellow and white. They stacked them on the floor. At the bottom they found a rag doll and other toys. The material of its body was made from worn blue flannel, with brown yarn hair, button eyes, red felt lips and faded red flannel dress.

  “I’ve never imagined my mother playing with dolls,” Angelique said.

  “Well, Aunt Julia definitely played with this doll.” Brenda handed the doll to Angelique. “There’s more toys in here.” She pulled out stuffed animals, a wooden pull car with a frayed cord, a metal tobacco tin filled with marbles and ribbons.

  Angelique touched each toy but kept the doll in her lap. She carried the doll tucked under her arm as they investigated other boxes, finding old clothes and dish sets. Brenda went through the drawers of a dresser and discovered a small red bag tied with white cord. She brought it to the light and sniffed it.

  “What’s that?” Angelique asked, putting her mother’s doll on an old trunk.

  Brenda carefully untied the bag and emptied its contents in a teacup. It was a ball of white wax with little bits of what looked like sticks lodged in it.

  “It’s a conjure ball. Looks like a spell of protection.”

  “How do you know that?” Angelique said.

  “Don’t you know the power runs strong in our family? That’s what Grandmom says.”

  “Magic isn’t real.”

  “It’s real enough. Grandmom says I’m too young, but I’ve learned a lot about magic online.” She dropped the ball back into the bag and tied it close. “Can’t you feel the light around this charm? It’s been up here for years and it’s still glowing.” Brenda held the bag up by its cord.

  “I don’t see anything but an old bag,” Angelique said. “Mother says voodoo is uneducated superstition.”

  “Voodoo isn’t the same thing. Anyway, magic is just people using their power, mostly to help others,” Brenda said. She took Angelique’s hands in hers. “It’s inside everybody and everything; some people have it stronger than others. Can’t you feel it?”

  Brenda put Angelique’s hands on her chest and closed her eyes. She took a slow breath. White light flickered behind her closed eyes. Tingling began below her belly button and pulled up through her chest, gathered in her next breath. She pushed out and opened her eyes.

  Angelique stood with her eyes closed, smiling. Brenda could feel her light mix with Angelique’s and drift into the air around them.

  “You see,” Brenda said.

  Angelique opened her eyes and took a deep breath. “What was that?”

  “Me reaching out to you. What did it feel like?”

  “Like electricity and light and warmth, like a dream.” Angelique held her hands up, looked at each finger.

  Brenda saw the warm glow of gold light outline Angelique’s hands and it was clear that Angelique finally saw it also.

  “This is no more of a dream than any of us see when awake. Grandmom says God is dreaming us all the time.”

  “That was just a trick.” Angelique stepped backwards away from Brenda.

  “You know that’s not true. You can feel it inside, whether you believe it or not.”

  “Well, I did feel something. And that glowing…” Angelique sat down on a trunk. “Even if I have this power — what good is it?”

  “What do you wish for more than anything?” Brenda asked.

  Angelique picked up her mother’s rag doll and held her close to her face. She closed her eyes. “I wish–I wish my mother would love me.”

  “We could do that, Angelique. You and I together could do it.”

  “You think so. Really?”

  Brenda nodded. “She’s your mother so she already loves you. It’s just locked away inside of her. We can make a gris-gris to open her to you.”

  “Even though we’re here and she’s in North Carolina?”

  “Distance don’t mean a thing. We’ll need something that’s been close to her.”

  They both looked at the doll.

  “And I have a handkerchief of hers in my suitcase,” Angelique said, hugging her mother’s doll.

  Brenda rubbed the sliver key on the chain around her neck. “Good, then we’ll make the charm tonight. I think some of my mother’s toys are over there. Let’s check it out.”

  Brenda put the conjure ball back in the dresser. They spent the next two hours going though the trunks, trying on clothes, and setting up old dishes and glasses for pretend meals, until their grandmother called them for dinner.

  That night they sat on the back porch eating ice cream while Brenda’s father had some friends over after dinner. Jazz played in the background as the adults talked and laughed in the living room. The lightning bugs drifted above the grass and herb garden like stars while the girls ate their ice cream. Crickets sang from the bushes along the back of the yard.

  “Make a wish on the next lightning bug and it’ll come true,” Brenda said.

  “Is that more magic?” Angelique asked.

  “Naw, just a saying, but it couldn’t hurt.”

  They both whispered wishes and laughed.

  Brenda stood up from the wicker chair and peeked into the kitchen window. No one was there.

  “Want to make that gris-gris for your mother now?” she asked Angelique.

  “Tonight?”

  “Why not? It’s as good a time as any.”

  “What if something goes wrong?” Angelique asked.

  “First lesson in using the power: your intent makes the magic. It’s not a complicated spell anyway.”

  “I don’t know about this–”

  “Of course you don’t. That’s why I’m going to teach you. Come on.”

  They entered the empty kitchen through the back door. Brenda found a small brown paper bag in the cabinet and sprinkled sugar in it.

  “We’ll put it together in our bedroom,” she whispered.

  They walked quickly through the dining room. Larry and his friends were in the living room, laughing and talking over the music. The girls dashed up the stairs. They tiptoed past their grandmother’s room, where they could hear her talking on the phone.

  In the bedroom, Brenda put a bracelet with little bells on the doorknob. “So we can hear if someone opens the door,” she said.

  She put the desk lamp on the floor and used the two bedposts to make a tent out of a sheet. They crouched under the sheet.

  “Spread the handkerchief on the floor,” Brenda said.

  Angelique laid the delicate square on the floor. It was white with white lace roses along the edge and her mother’s initials sewn in yellow on a corner.

  Brenda pulled a light wood box from under the bed; it had a sun painted on it. She took the silver chain with a heart and key from around her neck and unlocked the box.

  “I thought that was just a charm necklace,” Angelique said.

 
; Brenda winked at her and opened the box. It was filled with yarn, bits of material and things that jangled at the bottom. Brenda took out a ball of red yarn, pulled about twelve inches off, and cut it with a small pair of scissors from the box. She took a little pad of paper and pen out of the box and handed it to Angelique.

  “Write your mother’s first name nine times, real small.”

  Angelique wrote her mother’s name, in careful strokes.

  “Now fold the paper up as tight as you can and put it in the middle of the handkerchief,” Brenda said. She held the paper bag open. “Take a little sugar and sprinkle it in the handkerchief, to sweeten her to you.”

  “You have the doll?” Brenda asked.

  “Yes.” Angelique got the doll from her dresser drawer.

  Brenda handed her the scissors. “Cut a tiny piece of the dress and put it in the handkerchief.”

  Angelique looked at the scissors and the doll.

  “Come on, Angelique. Think of it as an experiment, we just need a little bit.”

  “Okay,” she said slowly. She cut a teeny piece of material from the inside hem of the doll’s dress and put the threads into the handkerchief. “Just as long as we don’t have to sacrifice an animal or cut ourselves for this.”

  Brenda laughed. “You don’t know anything, do you? You don’t use blood for a love spell. Fold the handkerchief up.”

  “Now wrap this yarn around it nine times and put nine knots in it – to hold it forever.”

  When she was done, Angelique stared at the small package they made.

  “You’ve made your first gris-gris.” Brenda tapped it. “The last step is to sleep with it under your mattress.”

  Angelique slid it under the mattress. “Will it work?”

  “Of course, between your power and a perfect gris-gris, it’ll work.”

  Angelique laid the doll on her bed. “How long will it take?”

  “You can’t put a time on something like this.”

  The doorknob jangled and they both jumped.

  “Brenda?” Her father knocked on the door.

  They took a deep breath in relief. Brenda locked the box and slid it back under her bed. “Come in.”

  “What’s this, camping out?” he asked.

  “No, Daddy, just swapping secrets.”

  He smiled, a little too wide, as he leaned against the door. “That’s good.” He turned to leave and swung in a circle. “Oh, your grandmother wants you two to help her in the kitchen.”

  “Okay.” Brenda put the lamp back on the night stand.

  Larry turned and walked away.

  Brenda made a sign like drinking with her hand. They both giggled.

  “He’s funny when he drinks. It doesn’t take much. That’s why he doesn’t drink the hard stuff. Does your dad drink?” Brenda asked.

  Angelique nodded. “He likes scotch and soda, two ice cubes. I make it for him when he comes home from work.”

  “Really? You ever tasted it?”

  She made a face. “Yes. I like white wine better. That’s what my mother drinks.”

  “Your mom lets you drink?”

  “She gives me a little wine on special occasions, so I can develop my tastes.”

  Brenda threw the sheet back on the bed. “I’ve tasted beer. It’s all right but I like cherry soda better.”

  On their way down the stairs, Angelique said, “Shouldn’t we check with Grandmom about what we just did?”

  “No,” Brenda said quickly. “We don’t want to bother her about something this small. Okay?”

  “Grandmom doesn’t know you’re doing magic, does she?” Angelique asked slowly.

  “Shhhh–do you want it to work or not?”

  Angelique nodded.

  “Then let’s go.”

  They helped clear the table and wash the dishes. Most of the time one of Larry’s friends sat in the kitchen talking to their grandmother about problems with her husband. After they finished drying the dishes, the girls went to bed.

  In the bedroom, with the lights out, Angelique asked, “Is it going to work?”

  “Don’t have any doubt. It’s important to be confident.”

  “Okay. Goodnight.”

  The rest of the week Angelique tried not to ask Brenda about the gris-gris for her mother. Every night she checked under her mattress to make sure the little white bundle, wrapped in red yarn was still there. They played video games during the day and met with Brenda’s friends to jump rope and window shop. At night Brenda showed Angelique her favorite computer sites on spells.

  Friday evening the phone rang. Their grandmother called Angelique from the yard.

  “It’s for you,” she said, handing the phone to Angelique.

  “Hello, Mother.” She told her about the fun things they did, leaving out the magic discussions. Her mother sounded about the same. Angelique gave up all hope.

  “Talk to you next week,” she said, ready to hang up.

  “What?

  “Oh. I love you too.” She stared at the phone after her mother hung up.

  “She said she loves me,” she said, hugging her grandmother.

  “Well, of course she loves you, honey.”

  “But, she’s never said it before. Never.” She ran out of the room to the yard, grabbed Brenda and swung her around. “She loves me. She said she loves me.”

  They danced in a circle until they collapsed on the grass, out of breath.

  “It worked, Brenda, it worked,” said Angelique.

  “Of course it did. I had no doubt.”

  The first half of the summer went fast. Between playing, Brenda taught Angelique what she knew about magic. They found spells online for making someone leave, to cure different kinds of sickness. They made a list of the kinds of objects carried in a nation sack. As they played and shopped, they collected unusual rocks from the park or feathers. Every now and then, they would find some interesting piece of metal or glass on the ground and added it to their box of magical material.

  They gathered ingredients for small spells, but never put the whole spell together. They saw Mrs. Johnston every couple of weeks; she stared at them from across the street and whispered to herself, but she didn’t talk to them again.

  Angelique never saw their grandmother doing magic, but every now and then someone came by the house and Grandmom gave them a package wrapped in brown paper. She once saw her grandmother take a small pale blue bag out of her blouse, rub it and put it back. Brenda said that her was her nation sack, where she carried special things for protection.

  Every time Angelique’s mother called she told her she loved her, and even said she missed her.

  One hot July day, Brenda and Angelique came in the house laughing, after a day at the park, and found their grandmother in the hallway on the floor. Her chest was covered with a dark cloud of squirming snakes. The girls screamed and the snakes melted away.

  Brenda ran to her grandmother’s unconscious body and shook her, yelling, “Grandmom!”

  Angelique ran to the living room and called ‘911’. The ambulance came quickly. Grandmom’s friend from next door rushed in when the medics arrived. She called Larry’s school and left a message. Brenda stayed by her grandmother’s side as they carried her into the ambulance.

  “I need to go with Brenda,” Angelique said.

  “Go ahead,” the neighbor said. “I’ll watch the house. Larry will be there as soon as he can. I’ll be praying here.”

  Angelique glanced across the street before getting in the ambulance and saw Mrs. Johnston standing in the shade of a tree, pointing and smiling. When she looked out the back window of the ambulance the old woman was gone. Nausea gripped her stomach. Could that woman have had something to do with this?

  The medics had an oxygen mask on their grandmother, but she was still unconscious. Brenda crouched on the floor, held her grandmother’s hand, and cried softly. Angelique tried to talk to Brenda, but she pulled away.

  At the hospital the doctor made them st
ay in the waiting room. Brenda held Angelique’s hand but still wouldn’t talk. The waiting room was filled with men, women and children clutched in little groups. Most stared at magazines or the droning television hanging from the ceiling. The sound of wheels rolling through the corridor broke through the whispers of people comforting each other.

  Angelique stared at the door, waiting for someone, anyone, to come in and tell them how their grandmother was doing. Brenda stared at the floor.

  Larry walked in, out of breath, as if he had run to the hospital.

  “Are you girls alright?” He hugged them both.

  “Is Grandmom going to die?” Brenda whispered.

  “No, your grandmother is the strongest person on this planet. I have to talk to her doctor. I wanted to make sure you two were okay first.”

  “We’ll be fine, Uncle Larry,” Angelique said.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He dropped his backpack and rushed out of the room.

  Brenda wrapped her arms around herself and started rocking back and forth. “She’s going to die. I can feel her – slipping away.”

  Angelique could also feel the wrongness, like air being sucked out of the room. “Somebody is doing something bad to her. You saw those snakes back at the house, right?”

  Brenda nodded her eyes puffy and red from crying.

  “Somebody, I think the old woman from across the street, did bad magic against Grandmom. I saw Mrs. Johnston when the ambulance drove away. She was smiling.”

  “But-but Grandmom’s protection should have kept her safe,” Brenda whispered.

  “I know, but somehow it didn’t. Those snakes weren’t real, but we saw them. Do you remember reading that sometimes you can see spells working through animal spirits?”

  Brenda nodded.

  “We can do something about this. We have to do a spell to stop it.”

  “Maybe,” Brenda said. “Maybe we can.”

  “We’ll pray now and later we’ll do more.” Angelique put her arm around Brenda and closed her eyes.

  Someone tapped Angelique on her shoulder.

  “Uncle Larry, how is she?”