Illusion

by Martina Boone

  Barrie pushed away from the doorjamb and spun toward Cassie, all the emotion and rage and unfairness of everything bubbling up inside her and finally spilling out. “Can you for once think about someone besides yourself, Cassie? There are bigger things in the world than your curse. Things worth protecting.”

  “Elijah probably died protecting them, if you think about it,” Eight said. “Refusing to trap the Fire Carrier. Maybe he knew that the yunwi needed whatever magic the Fire Carrier performed each night.” Stepping up behind Barrie, Eight rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. “For whatever reason, Elijah gave up his life protecting the magic on Watson Island. So did Ayita, indirectly.”

  “What does that matter?” Cassie cried. “The point is that we need them to leave!”

  “What does it matter?” Forgetting about—or at least ignoring—whatever he didn’t like about Barrie’s energy, Obadiah stalked across the chapel toward Cassie as if he were going to single-handedly throw her out the chapel door. “Ayita was raised to believe blood revenge was the only way to restore harmony once a wrong was committed,” he said. “And if Elijah died protecting something important, then killing him was an even bigger wrong.” He stopped in front of Cassie. “John Colesworth didn’t simply kill Elijah; he prevented Elijah’s spirit from getting peace. Forever. Killing John wouldn’t have avenged that, so Ayita gave up not only her life but her own peace, her very soul, to create a curse that would avenge Elijah’s murder. If you can’t acknowledge that and understand what’s at stake, then nothing good will come of the ceremony tonight anyway. I won’t risk having to destroy whatever is left of Ayita’s and Elijah’s spirits simply because you are too greedy, vain, and stupid to acknowledge that there is anything in the world more important than you are.”

  Shaking with anger, he veered off and exited through the chapel door before Cassie seemed to collect herself. She ran after him. “I’m sorry. I am sorry. I’ll say whatever you need me to say tonight—and I do understand that what John did was unfair and horrible. What more do you want from me?”

  Obadiah straightened the lapels of his jacket and brushed off the sleeves before he answered. His voice was very cold. “I don’t want anything from you. Unfortunately, you’re right. There’s too much danger in postponing the ceremony, but you had better hope that I can amass enough energy in the next few hours to break the curse and destroy the spirits. I’d hoped that an apology from you along with another plea from Daphne and Mary and the threat of the possibility of destruction would sway them—”

  “I said I’ll apologize—”

  “That’s not the point,” Barrie said, coming up behind her. “Obadiah’s not asking you to say the words, Cassie. You have to mean them. What Obadiah is trying to tell you is that you need to let go of the idea of being cursed so that the curse can be released.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Steam from the pots of boiling shrimp, crab, corn, sausage, and potatoes mingled with the summer humidity and hung in the air like clouds of gnats. Barrie had served so many people that her face felt like it would melt off her bones and leave her teeth gritted in a skeletal smile. Her hair stuck to her temples, and her shirt clung damply to her chest, and she glanced resentfully down at the end of the row of tables where Cassie was holding court like a queen. Smiling and nodding, Cassie was chatting with a group that included Joe Goldstein from the newspaper and Julia Lyons, who had been Lula’s very best friend growing up. She was soaking up the attention, back in her element, shining with the light and charm she was able to switch on and off—the light she hadn’t bothered to turn on much since Wyatt’s death. And of course, she had managed to avoid any semblance of the grunt work that the rest of them were doing.

  Although the lawn around them was crowded with people, many of whom Barrie had never seen before, there wasn’t a crowd of hundreds. Maybe seventy-five, all told. They gave every appearance of enjoying themselves, though, and they all stayed clear of the excavation area, wandering away when they got too close, as if they’d suddenly remembered they needed to be somewhere else.

  Crackling with energy, arms outstretched, and his dreadlocks pulled back in a rubber band, Obadiah walked among them. He touched everyone he passed, his fingers brushing bare arms and hands while they shivered and stopped speaking as if a cold draft had passed across their skin. Energy buzzed in the air, so much that even Barrie felt it.

  She wondered how much would be enough. Straining the liquid out of another serving of the low-country boil against the side of the pot, she watched the plastic sheeting at the excavation site billow up off the roof of the buried chamber, despite the heavy bricks in place to hold it down. And around the perimeter, the police tape flapped and shuddered even though the branches in the nearby trees stayed quite still.

  Obadiah’s ravens felt the disturbance, too, whatever it was. Perched on the columns above the mansion ruins, they had all turned to peer down at the arched brick roof of the buried chamber and the plastic that stirred and rustled above it.

  Obadiah claimed he had it under control. Barrie wasn’t sure she believed him.

  She wished she could go talk to him again, but the next person in line had already moved up and held out a paper bowl. Half-expecting it to be another person she didn’t know, Barrie smiled and looked up.

  The person who beamed back at her was an elderly woman in a brown dress and matching brown midcalf socks stuffed into leather sandals. “Hello, Barrie, dear. That steam is making you look nearly as pink as the shrimp you’re dishing out.”

  Barrie’s smile grew genuine. “Hello, Mrs. Price. How are you?”

  The retired teacher appeared much as she had the first time Barrie had met her at the Riverbank Farm and Market, her faded blue eyes were as round as a china doll’s and as sharp as ever. Unfortunately, the sour, impatient expression on her granddaughter’s face also hadn’t changed.

  As soon as Barrie had ladled the boil into Mrs. Price’s bowl, Lily Beth prodded her grandmother and shouted into her ear, “Go on, Granny. You’re holding up the line.”

  Ignoring her, Barrie held on to the bowl and very slowly added another serving. “It’s good to see you, Mrs. Price. I hope you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “I am. Very much. Never thought I’d see myself out here, though, but I was glad to come for your sake and Pru’s.” She leaned in closer. “It’s nice what you and the Beauforts are doing. Mind you be careful with that Cassie girl, though. Kindness can hurt you if you don’t keep a lookout.”

  “I’m glad people are trying to be friendly.”

  “Bless your heart, dear. Folks down here are always going to seem friendly. It’s what’s simmering underneath that you have to worry about. Small towns have long, long memories, and people don’t get fresh starts unless they earn them. So far, none of us have seen anything from Cassie or her mama to show they’re even aware they’ve got ground to make up. I know they’ve had a hard time. That’s not the point, though, is it? Suffering yourself doesn’t excuse what you do to anyone else.” Adjusting her grip on the bowl Barrie handed her, Mrs. Price threw a disapproving look back at Lily Beth. “Of course, no one sees their own actions clearly until after the fact. Not even then, half the time. Lord knows there’d be dust blowing down the streets if we locked up every idiot on Watson Island.”

  Barrie coughed to disguise a laugh, which faded as Lily Beth placed a hand on her grandmother’s back and nudged her again. “Your food’s going to be stone cold,” Lily Beth said. “And we’re not going to find a table if we don’t get going, Granny.”

  Mrs. Price rolled her eyes. “I’m not the one no one wants to eat with. Truth is, people lose their appetite with you nagging at them all the time.”

  She waggled her fingers at Barrie and moved on while Barrie ladled out a bowl full of crab boil for Lily Beth. After handing it over with a smile intended to—very politely—convey her hope that Lily Beth choked on it, Barrie turned to the next customer, the ginger-haired boy from the QuickMart, and
then found herself pushed aside gently as Mary came up and took the ladle from her.

  “Child, at the rate you’re going, it’ll be breakfast before you’re through servin’ supper. Why don’t you let me take over here? You go find Kate and keep her out of trouble.”

  Barrie pushed her damp curls out of her eyes and tried not to feel guilty for being happy to have a reprieve. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

  “I can change my mind, can’t I?” Deftly, Mary grabbed a bowl with one hand and used the other to dip the ladle into the pot. “I got to thinkin’ about human nature—about what Daphne said about people not helpin’ others. I hate that that’s what she thinks, and you can’t see the best in people if you never give yourself a chance to see it. So that’s why I’m here. Now, don’t just stand here. Get goin’.”

  Barrie grinned and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Kate’s down there by the police tape watching that underground room the way a cat sits and watches a mouse hole. You’d better get her away and go ask Obadiah what he’s up to, stirrin’ things up like that. Least, I hope it’s Obadiah doin’ it, or we’d better see to it that all these folks eat fast and get on home.”

  The plastic sheeting and the police tape were billowing around the dig site, and toed up right to the edge of the tape, Kate stood watching with wide eyes while she nibbled at the food in her bowl. She wasn’t in the least contrite when Barrie physically pulled her back.

  “Stay clear of here, Kate,” Barrie said. “I mean it. Go help your father if you’re bored.”

  “No one else is keeping an eye on what Elijah and Ayita are doing, so I am,” Kate said, yawning.

  “Obadiah is watching, and so am I. So is your brother.We’re all watching—from a safe distance. Now back away.” Barrie pointed Kate in the direction of the table where Seven was passing out drinks.

  Kate wasn’t wrong about Elijah and Ayita, though. With a worried glance at the plastic sheeting, Barrie set off to find Obadiah. He was still weaving slowly back and forth through the crowd, but he looked more like his old self again—as strong and young as he had been the first time Barrie had seen him, only more. Energy pulsed off him, making the air shimmer. She crooked her finger at him and turned her back on the crowd to walk around the back of the old kitchen building.

  “Whatever’s going on in the room is getting worse,” she said when he caught up. “Are you sure you don’t need to do something?”

  “I am doing something,” he said tartly. “I’m gathering energy, and I’m keeping people away, and I’m keeping Elijah and Ayita contained, and I’m fighting to keep them from taking any of the energy I’m expending on all that magic.”

  “Are you positive they aren’t taking in any of the energy that’s floating around here?”

  Obadiah sighed, and his expression was distant—which wasn’t precisely reassuring. “I’m doing the very best that I can, petite. They’re flexing their muscles because they sense all the people. Possibly they’re getting a little—a trickle, not a torrent, and it will stay that way unless I’m distracted.”

  Barrie tried to look unconcerned as she crossed to where Eight and Berg were frying Mary’s Vidalia onion corn cake batter under the careful observation of just about every girl in Watson’s Point. Circling around behind them, Barrie sidled next to Eight and pulled him aside.

  “Do you think we should find a way to wrap this up?” she asked quietly. They both turned to look at the buried room, standing shoulder to shoulder in silence while the plastic seethed and bubbled as if Ayita and Elijah were pushing it up from underneath.

  “That flimsy plastic doesn’t seem like much of a barrier, does it?” Eight said too calmly. “And Ayita and Elijah have to know that, since Obadiah already pulled them through it once.”

  Barrie tried to match his even tone, as if they were simply talking about what was good to eat or the chance of rain instead of a forecast that most probably predicted a 70 percent chance of disaster by ten o’clock. “Obadiah managed to push them back down there—and he’s kept them sealed inside ever since. He’d be more worried if there was something to worry about. Wouldn’t he?”

  “You tell me,” Eight said. “What’s got you concerned?”

  “Energy makes you feel good. It’s like a high. What if he can’t feel the danger the way he should?”

  “So what do we do?” Eight gestured across the lawn toward the driveway and the path that led from the parking area, where a steady stream of people had suddenly begun to arrive. “Unfortunately, the rest of the town just decided to show up. Short of shouting ‘Fire,’ there’s no way that we’re going to empty this place out for a few hours yet.”

  Barrie gave brief consideration to committing arson.

  Eight smiled almost indulgently at her. “Don’t do it, Bear. I’m not sure if it’s the Beaufort gift, or just me knowing the devious workings of your mind too well, but I read you loud and clear.”

  “I wasn’t really going to burn anything, but I don’t know what else to do.”

  Coming up unnoticed behind her, someone tapped her shoulder, and Pru’s voice sounded gratingly cheerful, considering Barrie’s mood. “This is a party, you two. Remember? At least pretend that you’re having fun. Go dance and mingle. Give the people what they came for. I have to hand it to Cassie and Marie, they’re doing at least that much.”

  Barrie and Eight both swiveled around to look where Pru had gestured. Cassie, Marie, and Sydney Colesworth were all greeting people as they came, giving every appearance of being charming and happy to see everyone. In Sydney’s case, at least, the charm was genuine.

  Feeling ashamed of herself, Barrie made a point of putting aside her own shyness and more reserved nature and stopped to speak to everyone she and Eight passed on the way to the dance floor on the open section of lawn. About a third of the people were already dancing with varying degrees of competence, but it didn’t seem to matter to anyone whether they were experts or fudging the basic steps of the Carolina Shag. The DJ stopped briefly to speak to the crowd before putting a new song on, but the four-four shuffling beat recommenced with a song about “dancin’, shaggin’ on the boulevard.” Eight took Barrie’s hand and pulled her onto the floor, where she tried to ignore the curious stares.

  “Nothing like a command performance, right?” Eight smiled down at her and squeezed her fingers. “Don’t worry. You’ll be all right. Just follow my lead.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls,” Barrie said.

  “Dancing is the one thing I can do with you where I actually get to lead.”

  Barrie’s smile slipped. “Do you mind?”

  “I think that’s how it’s supposed to be. Real life isn’t dancing. You lead sometimes, I lead sometimes, and most of the time, we make it up as we go along.”

  “Just don’t give up on me, okay?” Barrie said.

  “Never.” Eight drew her into the dance, and they came together. “Haven’t you figured out that I’m even more stubborn than you are?”

  They danced several songs, and then as the tempo slowed, he glanced around and pulled Barrie away, back behind the icehouse, out of sight. Deep in the shadows with the old brick building at her back, the twilight didn’t allow for much visibility, but Barrie felt unexpectedly apprehensive, as if what she felt for him would shine out of her so that he would see into her heart even more clearly than usual. It made looking at him painful for anything longer than the briefest flashes of lips, and throat, and green, beautiful eyes that tried to hold on to hers.

  “I’m going to kiss you now,” he said.

  “I suspected that might be the case.”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Very rarely. Not today,” she said, mindful that tomorrows didn’t come with guarantees.

  His mouth came down too slowly. Then talk and thought fell away, and Barrie’s breath came in sharp, ragged bursts that she told herself explained the pain in her chest and the heat that rushed through her ne
rves like wind rippling across the surface of the river. She wondered if she would ever grow desensitized to Eight, to this overwhelming sense of being swept up in a tide of want and unexpectedness and possibility.

  Needing to be even closer, to feel even more, she worked her hands up under the loosened tails of Eight’s shirt and splayed her fingers against his heated skin, following the smooth swells of muscle and the long curve of his spine as he sucked in his breath. She smiled against his mouth, reveling in the sense that the feeling was mutual, in the power that gave her, knowing that even if he made her disoriented and vulnerable, she could do the same to him.

  His heart pounded against her ear. He kissed her more deeply, his tongue playing gently against hers, his lips moving smoothly, hungrily. Any space that had been between them vanished. Doubts vanished. Because who could doubt with the way he held her? He was simultaneously fierce and gentle, protective and respectful, strong without being overwhelming. Slipping beneath the elastic of her bra, his thumbs brushed the sides of her breasts, softly, almost reverently, his breathing as ragged as hers. Then he stepped away.

  “We have to stop.” His voice was rough. “This isn’t the place, and we have people counting on us.”

  “You’re so sexy when you’re responsible,” she said with a sigh, and everything crashed back into place when his warmth wasn’t there anymore. “It’s a good thing you don’t have to want what I want anymore, or else we’d be hiding back here and never coming back out.”

  He frowned and then raised his head and gazed out into the trees. “We just have to tackle this one problem at a time, Bear. Curse first, and then the rest of it, and eventually there won’t be any problems left to solve. Don’t you think?”