Illusion

by Martina Boone

  Obadiah lurched to his feet. Flinching in pain, he hobbled back to the circle and stared down at the mess of broken lines where his foot had dragged through the white powder of both the vertical line and the outer circle. He scrubbed at the white powder even more, until he had obliterated the entire vertical section of the cross. Only then did he stop and let his legs buckle. Collapsing to one knee, he held both temples as if his head ached, and his face was twisted and old again, leached of blood beneath the dark brown skin. He attempted to get back up but didn’t seem to have the strength, and he lowered himself to one hip instead.

  “Are you all right?” Barrie asked.

  “Never, ever step into a cosmogram or any kind of circle,” he said without looking at her. “Never interrupt a ceremony. Didn’t you learn anything the other night when the Colesworth girl caught the feathers?”

  Barrie shuddered at the memory of Cassie grabbing a handful of black feathers as they drifted into the ground itself as if they weren’t solid. That was when the explosion had come.

  There hadn’t been any feathers this time.

  “You looked like you were in trouble,” she said.

  “That’s beside the point. I managed to break the connection to the dead as you pulled me out, but you’d have been exposed and vulnerable if I hadn’t—and I couldn’t have done anything to protect you.”

  “Protect her from what? What was that? What happened?” Daphne demanded.

  Obadiah’s head dropped to his chest as if he had no strength left to hold it up. “Elijah and Ayita weren’t as weak as I expected. Instead of answering me when I tried to communicate with them, they siphoned off the energy I put into the magic, and I wasn’t strong enough to break the connection. Help me get back outside. I’ll need to take a little more energy from the excavation team—you’ve already given me too much.”

  “What about her?” Barrie gestured toward the mantel, where Daphne stood.

  Daphne’s eyes went wide, and her hand flew to the base of her throat. “Me?”

  “Leave her alone. That’s why it’s better when people don’t know—then they can’t be afraid.” Gathering himself, Obadiah made an effort to get up. His fingers dug into his thighs to support his weight, and his cheeks and eyes were sunken. When Barrie had first met him, he had been so much more alive.

  “I am not afraid,” Daphne said, looking as if she’d rather bolt out of the cabin. Edging closer, she held out her wrist to Obadiah.

  “Are you sure?” He waited until she nodded. Then he raised his fingers cautiously, as though Daphne were a Fabergé egg and could be easily broken.

  Instead of grasping her hand, he laid his palm against her cheek, and his eyes closed at the first brush of his skin on hers. Tears leaked from beneath his lids, but that had nothing to do with taking energy. His wistful smile said as much.

  Daphne was trembling so hard that Obadiah’s arm shook. Then suddenly, she jerked away and backed up until she reached the doorway. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

  She turned and ran out of the cabin.

  “Wait, Daphne. Where are you going?” Barrie ran to the threshold. “What’s wrong?”

  Daphne neither slowed nor looked back, and glancing over her shoulder at Obadiah, Barrie caught her breath. She had never seen Obadiah appear heartbroken, but he looked it now. Lonely and heartbroken, and her heart wrenched at the thought of him wandering for more than a hundred years, watching everyone he loved die around him. Watching everyone leave him, then finding Daphne and having her literally run away because he scared her.

  “Will you be all right if I go after her?” she asked him quietly.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me. Go.”

  “But the energy—”

  “I’m not asking her, or anyone else, to understand the choices I’ve had to make in my life, but you have to see that it’s more important than ever that you bring me the lodestones. I’ll take as much energy as I can from anywhere I can find it to keep Ayita and Elijah contained, but they won’t stay weak for long. It’s not just the chance to break the curse that’s at stake anymore. That room is no longer sealed. Once the spirits have the strength to reach beyond it, they won’t necessarily stop taking energy when they reach full strength. The feeling can be addictive. The more energy they have, the more they’ll crave, and they’ll do anything, hurt anyone, to get it.”

  Barrie bit her lip, remembering the sensation of energy flowing through her, of swimming in energy, of being cracklingly, dazzlingly alive with it. “I’ll go after her,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just find the lodestones and bring them here.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Hurrying after Daphne, Barrie forgot all about her earlier promise to Berg until she heard him calling out to her. She didn’t stop. At that moment, explaining the unexplainable was at the bottom of her to-do list.

  Daphne had already reached the end of the path and was pacing the beach in front of the dock where the broken boards and charred pylons at the end were the only visible reminder of the explosion that had killed Wyatt and Ernesto—maybe killed Ernesto. Barrie shivered at the thought of him still out in the world somewhere, smuggling drugs again as if nothing had ever happened, as if Wyatt’s death were only an inconvenience that had changed where the Quintero Cartel brought the stuff ashore.

  She reached Daphne, who stopped pacing as Barrie moved up beside her. “Is Obadiah going to be okay?”

  “Probably,” Barrie said. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  “Nothing like that. It’s me.” Daphne turned to face the water with her arms crossed, her hands gripping her own shoulders as if she didn’t know what else to hold on to. “You know what he’s been through—all the things he must have lived through and seen, how badly he’s been treated. I’m related to him. I shouldn’t feel disgusted by what he does, but I can’t help it. I grew up hearing Gramma’s stories about boo hags, and now I’m realizing that he’s what she was talking about all that time. He’s got human teeth on his wrist.”

  “They’re his own teeth.”

  “That’s only slightly better than if they were someone else’s. Who wears teeth as a bracelet? But the point is, you heard him. He absorbs what people feel when he takes their energy. Their emotions. I think about what he’s suffered, and then I imagine how it must feel to know that what he does—what he is—makes me want to throw up. What kind of a person does that make me?”

  “A normal human one. It’s magic. Magic that goes against everything you’ve ever been taught.” Barrie shook her head. “I’m the last person in the world to judge you for running—it’s my default response, and I’m not proud of it. But people run out of self-preservation. Fight or flight. Running gets you away from the things you can’t beat.”

  “You can’t outrun fear.”

  “I’ve damn well tried,” Barrie said, smiling in spite of herself. “Plenty of times. If it worked, I’d still be trying. Obadiah’s not going to judge you for what you feel. Family is always a mirror. You can hide from other people, you can even hide from yourself, but your family is going to reflect what you’re doing right back at you.”

  She was thinking about her own family as she spoke, about Lula, who for years hadn’t been able to look at her own daughter without seeing the burn scars that had destroyed her own beauty. About Pru and Lula’s father, Emmett, who, instead of trying to be better and kinder to compete with the brother who overshadowed him, had resorted to brutal murder. Even Seven projected his own hopes and resentments onto his son. It all came down to how people saw themselves, and to what they refused to see.

  Daphne’s head came up. “Do you think I hurt Obadiah’s feelings badly?”

  “I think you gave him hope that he hasn’t had in a long time. I get the feeling he hasn’t been close to anyone in a while.”

  “So you trust him?”

  Barrie stopped to consider that. “I trust him with you. The way he looked at you, I trust him to do whatever
he feels is going to keep you safe.”

  “I can’t go back there. Not right now. And Gramma is probably worrying herself sick as long as we’ve been gone.”

  “So we’ll take some time to figure things out logically before we try again—”

  “Try what again?” Walking up silently behind her, Berg put a hand heavily on Barrie’s shoulder. “I thought we had a deal. You were supposed to find me before you left.”

  Barrie had forgotten how quietly he moved. She spun to face him, then glanced back at Daphne. “I can’t talk right now—I need to get Daphne back to Watson’s Landing.”

  “I can get back on my own. Don’t worry about me,” Daphne said.

  Berg held Barrie’s eyes. “I can drive you back in the car later, but I really need that explanation you promised. I don’t want to have to bring the police into this . . .”

  “Hey. Don’t make threats.” Daphne’s eyes slitted, and she stepped up beside Barrie.

  “It’s all right.” Barrie dug the key to the tunnel out of her pocket and dropped it into Daphne’s palm. “Try to pull a branch or something back over the grating as you drop it shut, and make sure you lock both that and the tunnel door. And tell Pru that I’ll be back as soon as I can to help with the furniture.”

  She stood silently watching Daphne walk away, aware of Berg standing grim-faced behind her, waiting for her to begin. She wished she knew how. Or even how much to say. Finally she turned, headed out onto the dock, and dropped down on the edge facing upriver toward Watson’s Landing.

  Berg lowered himself beside her. “I take it this is going to be a long explanation. Is Cassie in some kind of trouble? Apart from what I already know about? Was Ryder forcing her to help him steal the gold? Whatever she’s done, tell me so I can find a way to help.”

  His obvious concern made the decision simple. For Berg, the questions all began and ended with Cassie. Even though he suspected she had drugged him and everyone else on the dig crew, he’d waited before calling the police. He hadn’t even known what he was waiting for—he’d just waited. Which meant he hadn’t wanted to make the call. With everything he’d done in the military, Barrie couldn’t imagine what it would take to scare him. And the very first time Barrie had met him, he had talked about how much time he had spent in cemeteries growing up. He’d talked about angry angels.

  “How do you think Cassie is holding up?” she asked him, slipping off her shoes. “Really holding up?”

  His profile hardened. “PTSD-wise, you mean? I’m not a professional. But sometimes, when the flashbacks start, it’s a sign that you’re starting to process what happened instead of suppressing it. Sometimes. Not always. She needs to see someone.”

  Beyond the Watson dock, the water of the Santisto swept beneath the overhanging oaks and the tupelos that guarded the edge of the overgrown rice fields. A heron stood motionless, nearly invisible, hunched like an old woman in the grass.Without the ghost hunters and curious lookie-lous who had plagued the area for the past weeks, the river was peaceful again. The patrols the sheriff had set had accomplished at least that much.

  “Why don’t you tell me what Cassie’s done,” Berg said. “I can’t help her if I don’t understand.”

  “She didn’t explain anything to you?”

  “Apparently, she doesn’t want anyone to disturb Charlotte Colesworth’s burial place. That was her excuse for wanting to shut down the dig, but she was spitting out whatever popped into her head: ghosts, curses, psychic energy. That’s what’s got me worried.”

  “So you don’t believe in ghosts?”

  Berg went still, then ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. “Are you saying she was serious? It’s always a little hard to tell what the locals are making up around here.”

  “What if I said that everything you’ve heard is real? The Fire Carrier, and the gifts, and the curse. You already know about the pirates and the tunnels.” She leaned forward so that she could watch Berg’s expression as she explained, and in the end, she told him everything—about Obadiah, and Ayita and Elijah, the gifts and the curse, lodestones, energy, vortexes, magic, and the bindings. Berg interrupted her only a few times to ask questions, and they were sitting close together, deep in conversation, when Cassie’s voice from the beach made Barrie give a guilty start.

  “What are you doing?” Cassie asked.

  Berg’s brow was still creased with thought, and he looked up almost absently. Cassie stalked out onto the dock and stopped behind him.

  “I thought I saw you two headed down here. You’re not talking about me, are you?” She smiled as if she were only joking, but the color in her cheeks nearly matched the bright pink of her hip-length blouse.

  “Indirectly.” Berg patted the sun-bleached boards beside him. “Barrie was filling me in about ghosts, curses, and spirit paths.”

  With a resentful look at Barrie, Cassie eased herself down and sat cross-legged on the planks. “Does that mean you’re changing your mind about giving Obadiah the lodestones?”

  Dunking her feet into the bathtub-temperature water, Barrie pointed and flexed her toes, kicking up small bubbles that drifted down beneath the dock. “Even if I had the stones, which I don’t, I couldn’t hand them over without understanding what they do and how they work. I need facts. That’s where I was hoping Berg could help.”

  “There are no facts when it comes to magic.” Berg’s lips tightened.

  “But ‘lodestone’ is another name for magnetite, isn’t it? That’s fact,” Barrie said. “Science, not just magic. Magnetite was used by the ancient Chinese and Olmecs for orientation and navigation, so if magnetite is also a focal point for magic, then—”

  “Move!” Cassie gripped Berg’s arm and scrambled to her feet. She pointed at a dark, slow-moving shape, pebbled like a log, and a pair of eyes breaking the surface of the water. Vertical pupils seemed to focus on Barrie as the alligator drifted toward the dock.

  Berg jumped up and hauled Barrie upright with him. Only as the gator slid beneath the dock did its full length become visible, a good seven or eight feet of teeth, sinew, and tough, ridged hide disappearing just inches from where Barrie’d had her feet. For some reason, that seemed to be the topper on the whole damn day.

  But she didn’t have time to indulge in panic at the moment.

  The alligator must have dived down deep, because there was no sign of it emerging from under the dock downriver. Barrie snatched up her shoes and shuffled to the middle of the dock with a nice, safe expanse of wood between her and the water on either side. That wasn’t panic. It was only prudent.

  Berg came to stand beside her. “What were you saying about lodestones?”

  Cassie sent another resentful glance at Barrie and sank back down to sit on the planks at Berg’s feet again in a single graceful motion. Her jeans rode up over the ankle monitor she still had to wear, and she shot a glance up at Berg to see if he’d noticed as she twitched the fabric of her pants back over it.

  “What’s the point of talking about lodestones if Barrie’s not going to give them to us anyway?” she asked.

  Berg waved his hand invitingly at the planks beside him and gave Barrie a questioning lift of his brows. She looked around again for the alligator, but it was gone, and the water was quiet. Suppressing a sigh, she sat and pulled her knees to her chest, and Berg settled himself beside her.

  “What I was saying,” Barrie said, “is that even what I found on the Internet about lodestones as a focal point for magic talks about polarity, attracting negative or positive energies, like a compass.”

  Berg watched the water absently. “Actually, the Chinese didn’t invent the compass for navigation—they invented it for feng shui, which is a metaphysical practice based on the flow of positive and negative energy.”

  “Magnetic energy?” Barrie asked.

  “More than that. Ch’i, prana, ruah, mana, moyo . . . or ‘the Force,’ if you happen to be a Star Wars fan, are all related to life force. Different cultures give it different
names and contexts, just like there are various names for the lines that move that energy around the earth: spirit paths, ley lines, dragon lines. I’m not saying these things are real, but based on what you’re saying, maybe they’re not not real, either. Science can’t prove this spiritual sort of energy exists, but maybe that’s only because we haven’t yet figured out how to measure it.”

  The heron who’d been standing sentry in the marsh grass upriver took flight, blue-tipped wings rowing up in long, slow strokes, legs dripping like a wake behind it. Berg leaned back and watched it pass, but it was clear that he was thinking hard, wrestling with something.

  Cassie scooted in closer and leaned across to tap his knee. “If you believe the energy could be real, then help me talk Barrie into being reasonable about the lodestones.”

  “Could the place be special to the Fire Carrier and the yunwi,” Barrie asked, ignoring Cassie, “because of the vortex or the spirit path?”

  Berg leaned forward. “That’s interesting. It might depend on when they came. We tend to think of the Cherokee in terms of the culture into which European contact forced them, but earlier they lived in towns and houses of wattle and daub and had complex religious and societal structures centered around a priesthood. Before that, the Mississippian mound builders had pyramids and astrological monuments that may not have been all that different in purpose from Newgrange, or Stonehenge, or the Egyptian or Mayan pyramids, and there are theories about ancient sites around the world being built on areas of high electromagnetic energy. I saw an article just the other day about physicists studying the way crystals in the rocks of Stonehenge might have been used to create an energy field.”

  Cassie shifted so that she blocked Barrie’s view. Barrie peered around her and said, “So we’re back to electromagnetic energy?”

  Leaning toward her, Berg gave a shrug. “If there’s a connection, it doesn’t mean it’s an intentional one. I’d have to research—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” Cassie jumped up and glared down at them. “Who cares? Just find the stupid lodestones so that this can all be over.”