by fox, angie
I focused, reached deep down inside. I tried to feel my way through the dark magic swirling around us to learn where Grandma could be.
It clung to me like tar, hot and sticky, blinding.
“I’m going to least take some of the pins out,” Frieda said, reaching for the doll.
“Don’t touch it.” I threw up a hand up to block her. “We don’t know what kind of voodoo we’re dealing with.”
We might only make it worse.
Then it was as if merely speaking of the dark magic drew it to me. I sensed it as it seeped close, searching for an opening. It wanted to twist its way inside me, to weave its way into my very soul. Every instinct screamed at me to run. Instead, I let it settle close to me.
I searched for the source. I stood my ground, waited, let it draw closer than I would have otherwise dared. It surged like a dark wave rolling onto the beach—a massive swell of power that felt very, very wrong.
Frieda swayed under the assault. “I feel dizzy.” She tried to lie down in the bed.
“No.” I touched her on the arm. She felt ice cold. The magic slid over our skin and suddenly I knew why I felt the rush of the waves, the pounding of the shore. It was coming from the beach.
“Come on,” I said, escorting Frieda from the room. She couldn’t come with me, not in the shape she was in, but I wasn’t going to leave her alone in that place.
When it came down to it, I wondered if anywhere was safe. Grandma had felt sick before she entered Rosette’s room. Frieda succumbed afterward.
I led her to a plush chair in the hallway. “Sit. I’ll fix this. I’ll be back soon.”
I spied an exit at the far end of the hall. Halfway there, I almost collided with a kind-faced, middle-aged nurse as she exited one of the rooms. “Hi. Sorry.” I reached out to steady us both. “Will you take a look at my friend?” I asked, pointing out Frieda. “She’s not feeling so well.”
“Of course,” she began, trying to lead me back from where I came.
I spun out of her grasp. I hated to leave Frieda, but I didn’t have time to wait while the nurse checked her out. Besides, I had a feeling I’d be helping her more by getting to the bottom of this. “Is that the way to the beach?” I asked.
The nurse smiled, somewhat taken aback by my exit. “Yes, but those doors will beep if you leave. It’s best to go back around the building and—”
“Gotcha.” I ignored the nurse’s protests as I dashed down the hall and blew out the back door.
The alarm blared a harsh scree-scree-scree behind me. I hurried across a patio and down the stairs toward the beach. Sea grass rose up on either side of me. I pressed forward, my boots pounding the wooden path below.
Black magic pierced the air and I watched in horror as the sun sank below the waters of the Pacific. Samhain was upon us, the night when the veil was the thinnest between the living and the dead.
I opened up my demon slayer senses and felt the irresistible pull of wanton destruction and death. It had been no coincidence that we found ourselves here on this night. Now I just had to figure out who had drawn us here and what they wanted.
I followed the magic along the shore, my heart pounding as I struggled to move quickly through the sand.
If I hadn’t left Grandma, if I’d have stayed in the room with her…well, it might have been me caught in the snare. I wished it was.
Then I saw the flicker of torches ahead, in a cove past the water. My mouth grew dry.
It had to be them.
I climbed the rocky outcropping, scattering pebbles, unsure of my next move. Somehow, I’d have to bridge the gap. I needed to figure out a way to navigate the dark waters ahead if I had any hope of making it to the secluded cove.
One hand braced on my switch stars, I pressed forward, trusting the universe. I’d make it possible. Somehow. And just when I thought I’d step off the edge and plunge into the ocean, I came upon a narrow pathway.
The sandy soil felt soft under my feet.
I pulled the Maglite out of my utility belt, chancing a quick look. The path was barely as wide as a person, and left no room for error. At the same time, it seemed solid, and it snaked along the edge of the water.
That was all I needed. I prayed it went as far as the cove.
A woman’s voice uttered a low chant, barely discernible amid the breaking of the waves.
I killed my light. It was too much of a risk. Then I stepped onto the path.
I was on my own, unless Frieda somehow recovered and rallied the others. I didn’t have high hopes for that. Whatever attacked Grandma had struck Frieda as well.
The chanting grew louder. The pounding of drums echoed over the water and I doubled my pace, moving as quickly as I possibly could. I didn’t know much about voodoo rituals, but everything I’d seen made me think they were obsessed with death. Sacrifice.
I turned the corner and stared in horror.
Torches illuminated a small cove amid the cliffs. Inside the grim circle of light, Rosette pounded on the drums, chanting, while in the center of a blackened circle of ashes, Grandma stood, battling for her life.
A twisted, blackened entity hovered over her, poised to strike.
She watched it like the predator it was. All the while, she chanted age-old words of magic. “Modestro tolomus avanhara.”
The ancient spells spilled from Grandma as she wound her hands through the air. Black ooze trickled down her forehead.
She had no spell jars, no backup.
I drew a switch star.
“Stop!” Rosetta called, missing a beat on her drum.
Grandma spun on me, losing her focus on the entity, crying out as it slammed into her shoulder.
Oh my God. “Grandma!” I dashed down the embankment.
“Don’t cross the ashen line,” Rosetta cried, attempting to block me. I ducked around her, aiming the switch star for the entity. I had no idea what part of it to target or if it would even work against a creature that was more black magic than flesh and blood.
But I focused my strength, my will, my positive focus that I could defeat this monster, that I could free Grandma. That everything would be all right.
I let loose my switch star in a blaze of light.
It struck the being and exploded in a surge of power that made me weak in the knees. The force of it knocked Grandma to the ground. She rolled away and came up in a crouch, ready to go again.
I watched in horror as the creature broke into at least a dozen writhing, fiery pieces. They spewed like a volcanic explosion into burning chunks on the beach.
I might have just made it worse.
My switch star winged back to me like a boomerang.
Rosette charged the nearest chunk of molten magic. “Halo mancha verno ta!” she shouted. “Away with spirits bold and soiled!” Rosette stomped on the fiery mass, sending up a wave of purple sparks. “Away!” she shouted, her shoes smoking, as if she could banish it by force of will alone.
It fell to ash under her feet.
Holy smokes. I took the next one. “Away with spirits bold and soiled!” I hollered. The slice of magic felt soft under my feet, as though I could sink straight into it. “Away!” I insisted, ignoring the quicksand feel of it, how the chunks of burning soot broke into purple shards of energy. They snaked at my legs, burned ribbons up my knees. “Away!”
Grandma held her hands over a half dozen or more of the splintering chunks. She chanted, forced out her power over them. One by one they sparked and crumbled. The final slice let out a crackling groan before it too disintegrated like ash.
I saw I stood on a circle of blackened soot. Nothing of the fire or magic remained under my feet, nor were there any more shards on the beach. We were left with the pounding of the waves and the crackling of the torches.
Rosette shook, rubbing her hands over her eyes.
I went to see Grandma. She stood alone, speaking so low to herself it almost sounded like humming. I should probably leave her alone, but I had to know. “Are y
ou all right?”
She stared past me, as if she could see entities I couldn’t. “Yeah,” she said, absently. “I think we got it.”
I shivered. The air felt electric, charged with excess energy. “What was it?”
Grandma shook her head. Her hair tangled in her eyes and over her shoulders. She pushed it aside. “A voodoo curse come to life.” She turned to her friend. “What are you playing at, Rosie?”
Grandma’s friend wiped at her swollen eyes and swallowed hard, as if she couldn’t quite believe we’d made it through. “It was supposed to be a love spell.” She flinched as a purple spark crackled in the dead fire and launched into the night. “I’m so sorry.” She hurried to where the spark had ignited. “Away!” She stomped, reaching into her pocket and sprinkling what appeared to be dirt and herbs onto the fire. “Away!”
“I think you got the last of it,” Grandma said, rubbing a boot in the ashes.
“I never meant…” she began, stumbling over her words. “It should have been simple. One spell.” She crossed her arms over her chest, still stomping. “I needed a lock of my rival’s hair.” She swallowed hard. “You weren’t even supposed to notice.”
“Spell work is dangerous on this kind of land. Any kind of negative emotion can make it go dark, turn it into a curse,” Grandma warned, too late. “I told you that you were powerful.”
She didn’t say the rest—that Rosette would have to be very angry with Grandma for it to have gotten this far.
Grandma’s friend sniffled hard. “The doll was to make you sleepy, not sick. Once I had your hair, it was supposed to be over. I don’t even remember kidnapping you to the beach.”
“I know,” Grandma said, “I saw it in your eyes. You weren’t there. Until it began the attack.”
A single tear ran down her cheek. “Then it was too late.”
“You took control of the drums,” Grandma said. “You did your best to cage it.”
“Until your granddaughter blasted it,” she said, her voice thick with gratitude. She turned to me. “You’re a good girl, Lizzie.”
“I try,” I said. It wasn’t always easy to stay on top of this crowd.
Grandma smiled. She knew.
Rosette poked at the remains of the fire with her feet, as if she refused to believe she could conquer her demons.
Grandma went to her old friend. She stood in the dead fire with her and touched Rosette’s arm. “Stop your stomping. It’s over.” She tilted her head. “Now tell me. Why am I your rival?”
She stared down at the ashes, her dreadlocks shielding her face before her gaze found Grandma’s. “Remember? You stole Eddie Turner. At the Independence Day party in 1976.”
“Ah.” Grandma clucked with sympathy. I could tell she was having trouble figuring out just who this Eddie Turner might be.
Rosette blinked back tears as she avoided Grandma’s scrutiny. Instead, she looked out to the ocean. “He was sweet on me. I could tell. It was only a matter of time before he asked me out,” she said, a flush creeping up her cheeks. “Then you took him to the movies. You asked him out. You made him like you.”
“Aw,” Grandma said gently. “That wasn’t so hard.”
“No doubt you had a love spell,” Rosette challenged, as if daring her to deny it.
“I have something better,” Grandma said. “You want to know my secret?”
“No,” she said, wiping at her eyes, looking back to the mess on the beach. “I’m done with love spells. I’ll stick to protective magic. It’s the only thing I’m good at.”
Grandma sighed. “It’s hard to do positive conjuring on bad land. It took our whole coven to put on the witches’ bash. The bad magic kept trying to seep up and taint it, like it corrupted your love spell.” She shook her head. “I won’t deny you made a mistake in judgment.” Grandma held her hands up over the beach and glanced at me. “It’s gone, isn’t it?”
I opened up my demon slayer senses, gave it a thorough search. “Yes.” The only remnants were the ashes on the beach, and even those would be gone with the tide.
Grandma turned back to her friend. “If you want to do another love spell, ask. The coven would be glad to help you pull it off. We could do a whole incantation. With live chickens.”
Rosette appeared slightly horrified. “No. I want to be subtle.”
Too bad. The biker witches didn’t know how to do that.
She sniffled as she began dousing the torches. “Forget it. Really. I should have kept Eddie in my past. I haven’t seen him in forty years, and I’ve been avoiding him ever since he moved into one of the apartments upstairs.”
Grandma’s jaw dropped. “At the Ocean View Senior Living Center?”
“Not even two weeks ago,” Rosette said.
“That’s fate,” Grandma said, serious as a heart attack.
Her friend reddened at the cheeks. “I figured the Halloween party would be a good time to rekindle our acquaintance. One of the nurses said he was going.”
“That’s perfect,” Grandma said. She’d regained her strength and the warmth in her voice. I could tell she had an idea. “In fact, you don’t even need live chickens or naked chanting to get his attention. You can get Eddie on your own.”
“Impossible,” Rosette huffed.
“You want to try it?” Grandma prodded. “Because I’d be damned pissed if you voodooed me, stole a lock of my hair, and got me attacked by a nasty-ass spirit and then turn scaredy-cat when it comes to getting the man at the end.”
Rosette stood still, the light from the last torch flickering over her features. “I can’t believe you’d want to help me after what I did.”
“You’re a good person, Rosie,” she said, softly. “You get that, right? You didn’t set out to hurt me. Jealousy can be as dangerous as black magic. It fuels the bad and gives it an opening to hurt us. That’s why you have to be careful. I don’t need to lecture you. You saw the consequences up close and personal tonight. But we need to be very clear. One mistake doesn’t wipe out four decades of doing the right thing.”
Tears filled her eyes and her mouth twisted into the first smile I’d seen from her since Grandma got sick. “Thanks. I suppose you’re right.”
“You bet your ass I am,” Grandma said, leading Rosette away. “Now I know just the thing to get that man off the fence.”
“Magic?” she asked.
Grandma shook her head. “Something better.”
Chapter Five
“I think I know where this is going,” I said, as we walked Rosette back inside and headed for the party.
“Get me one of your fancy cupcakes,” Grandma told me.
Frieda still slept in one of the tan chairs in the hallway. But her color was good and she seemed to be snoring comfortably. I shook her awake.
“Oh my,” she said, her eyes fluttering open. “I had the strangest dream.”
Grandma and I helped her up while Rosie ducked into her room for an emergency lipstick-and-hair-arranging session.
Grandma clapped the blonde biker witch on the arm. “Frieda,” she said, “I need you to go up to the second floor and make sure a man named Eddie Turner comes down to the party.”
“All right,” she said, straightening her black catsuit and fluffy ears.
I went to go show her where to find the elevator. On the way back, I grabbed a cupcake and stopped to see Bob at the karaoke machine. “We’re going to need a love song coming up,” I said, patting him on the shoulder.
He merely grinned.
I returned to the scene of the crime with the cupcake and waited a few minutes for Rosie to finish getting ready. When she emerged from her room, she’d changed into a fresh purple gown. A gold scarf wound in her hair and her cheeks flushed with natural excitement.
“You look good,” I told her.
A shy smile tickled her lips. “I feel good,” she said, glancing at Grandma.
I handed her the cupcake. “I think you’re supposed to give this to Eddie.”
Grandma nodded. “Tell him you picked it out special.”
Rosie looked down at the cupcake, as if it would come alive and bite her. “But isn’t that forward?”
“Then you’re going to ask him to dance,” Grandma said. “A slow song.”
Her friend blushed all over again. “I can’t.”
“Come on,” Grandma said, leading her down the hall. “You said you wanted to pay me back. This is how you do it. You reach outside yourself and you be happy. I won’t accept anything less.”
“He’s going to think I’m a fool,” she said breathlessly, her fingers digging into the moist cupcake. “He’s going to say no.”
“And what’s the worst thing that can happen?” Grandma asked, as we neared the party.
Rosie swallowed as she looked from Grandma to me. “The worst is over,” she said, as if realizing it for the first time.
I opened the doors and Grandma nudged her inside. “Go get ’em, tiger.”
Rosie took a few confident steps, and then slowed as she saw an older man in a blue sports jacket. He stood at the edge of the dance floor, watching. The biker witch Creely spun in the middle, a human disco ball, as others danced around her.
As if drawn by a force more powerful than him or her or anyone else in the room, the man in the blue sports jacket turned and saw Rosie through the crowd.
She made her way to him and shyly greeted him, handing him the cupcake. He barely looked at it. He was too busy noticing Rosie.
I caught Bob’s eye and gave him the thumbs-up. He nodded and changed up the music. A slow, sultry melody captured the room. “At Last” by Etta James.
I felt a wet nose on my knee and looked down to see Pirate. He’d lost his pirate outfit and was instead wearing a crocheted hot dog and bun on his back that really did make him look stupid.
“Where on earth did you get that?” I asked, picking him up.
He tried to shake it off and failed. “Mrs. Levinson said she could take my pirate costume off. I never expected the bait and switch.”
Ah well. “At least you get to be food.” It was his favorite thing. “Look,” I said, as we watched Eddie lead Rosie out onto the floor.