Shadow Child

by Wendy Wang

  Lisa walked into the Touch of Glamour Salon and Day Spa and the heaviness she'd been carrying around since reading the cards for Jason suddenly diminished. She took a deep breath, and the mix of lavender and cedarwood washed through her senses, calming her. She scanned the faces of the patrons sitting in stylist’s chairs and in the waiting area of her cousin’s salon. Nobody looked stressed. When she thought about it, they all seemed a little high. Lisa spotted the culprits, a couple of essential oil diffusers releasing the heady scents that had just greeted her. Lisa suspected something else that she couldn't see might be lulling the patrons into a stress-free state. That's why she was here, wasn't it? Her cousin spotted her in the mirror and smiled. Daphne finished placing a plastic cap on the head of the woman sitting in her chair, patted her on the shoulder, and offered her a magazine.

  The woman held up her phone. "I should be just fine until I’m done, thank you, honey."

  Daphne nodded and headed in her cousin's direction, her carefully groomed, dark curls bouncing along her shoulders as she hurried along.

  "Well, this is an interesting surprise." Daphne put her hands on her slim hips. Lisa marveled, not for the first time, how Daphne could look cover-girl made up in the middle of a work day. "I didn't expect to see you till Friday. Is everything okay?"

  "Do you have someplace where we can talk?" Lisa said. "I need your help on something."

  Daphne's smile disappeared, and she nodded. "Come with me."

  "What's up?" Daphne closed the door to the small office behind them. Lisa looked around. The modern Cherrywood desk and the mirrored file cabinet looked like they belonged in a high-end office space not the small back office of the hair salon. A leather Eames-style chair took up the corner with a funky three-globed light behind it. Daphne waved her hand at the light, and it clicked on.

  "Wow, I'm not sure how I feel about such casual use of your magic, Daphne," Lisa said, taking a seat on the Eames chair.

  Daphne snorted and waved her hand in front of the light again. It clicked off, leaving Lisa sitting in the dark.

  "They’re sensor bulbs, dork. Geez, judge much?" Daphne said. She turned the light back on and took a seat in the Sherpa-fleece covered swivel chair next to the desk.

  Lisa's cheeks heated and she snickered at herself. "Sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions so fast."

  Daphne's face softened. "No worries. So what are you doing here?"

  "I need your help."

  "With what?" Daphne asked.

  "With a missing person case," Lisa said.

  Daphne swiveled the chair to face her cousin. She shoved her manicured fingers beneath her thighs and leaned forward. "I'm listening."

  Lisa went on to explain how Jason had come to her and the tarot reading she had done for the girl. When she was finished, she met her cousin's intense gaze. "So what do you say?"

  "I say we give it a try," Daphne said. "The worst thing that can happen is that we don't find anything, right?"

  "Yeah, I guess," Lisa said. "I think my big concern is that neither one of us is really psychic."

  "I'm gonna have to disagree with you on that, Cuz," Daphne said. "Are we as psychic as Charlie? Probably not. But we both have those flashes of intuition, and neither of us is afraid to open our third eye. Right?"

  Lisa chuckled. "Right. What did you have in mind?"

  "I think we should start small. Maybe try some trance work or astral projection," Daphne said.

  "And if that leads us nowhere?" Lisa asked.

  "How do you feel about shrooms?" Daphne asked.

  “Strangely, I’m not averse,” Lisa said. “But don’t tell Jason that.”

  “Well, duh,” Daphne said with a chuckle.

  Charlie turned the knob on the microfiche machine, and the images of The News and Courier for 1955 flew by. She’d started with papers dated ten years before, looking for announcements that might lead to a clue about Edwina’s identity and had found an engagement announcement in the December 14, 1947 paper for Edwina Ann Ruskin, twenty-four, who had accepted the proposal of Porter Byrnes Heyward III. She skipped ahead to June of 1948 and quickly found their wedding pictures in the society pages. But further investigation into the years after did not yield a birth announcement for a child with the Heyward name. Maybe Barbara Jean really had no connection to the couple, like Charlie first suspected. She kept going, stopping every few slides to skim, looking for any sort of information she could find on the young socialite.

  “How’s it going?” Tom asked from the carrel next to her.

  “So far nothing on Barbara Jean,” Charlie said. “Any luck on Edwina’s commitment?”

  “Nothing,” Tom said. “But I’m honestly not surprised.”

  “No, I’m not either. It was a shot in the dark.”

  “What was a shot in the dark?” Ben asked as he approached the couple.

  “Hey,” Charlie said. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it or not.”

  “Hey, Tom,” Ben said. “I’m really sorry about last night. I had no idea the spell would banish you.”

  “It didn’t banish me,” Tom said. “What it did was strip my glamour.”

  “Sorry,” Ben said. “I’m working on a way to reverse that part of the spell.”

  “No problem,” Tom said. Apparently he’d wasted no time in replacing the cool good looks and stylish wardrobe Charlie loved.

  “So here’s something you two might find interesting.” Ben pulled a chair from an empty carrel and sat down with them. “I went by to help Jen check the wards she’d buried around her father’s property.”

  “What did y’all find?” Charlie asked.

  “Every single ward had been shattered,” Ben said.

  “Wow, that is … what could do that?” Charlie asked.

  “I don’t know. Something with powerful magic, that’s for sure,” Ben said. “I’ve never seen anything like it. So no luck with the search so far?”

  “Not a lot. I’ve got her name and when they were married. No connections to Barbara Jean, but I’m not giving up yet,” Charlie said. “I’ve got a few more years to check.”

  “Well, don’t let me stop you,” Ben said.

  Charlie turned her attention back to the microfiche machine and continued to skim the society pages and obituaries. When she got to the spring of 1956 her heart sank.

  “Tom.” Charlie reached for his arm.

  “Did you find something?” Ben asked.

  “Edwina Ruskin Heyward, 28, of Charleston, South Carolina, entered into eternal rest on May 19, 1956.” Charlie read aloud. “Her funeral service will be held at Sunset Memorial Gardens at 3pm …” Her voice sped up with excitement as she read, “The family will receive friends and family on May 22 from 5:00pm to 8:00pm at Sharon and Sons Funeral home on Calhoun Street.”

  “I’ll call William and see if he has any records at our downtown branch,” Tom said. He pulled a shiny black cell phone from his pocket and walked away so he could make his call in private.

  “Here she is,” Charlie said.

  “Who?” Ben leaned in closer.

  “Barbara Jean,” Charlie said. “Edwina was born in Charleston and played an important role in Charleston society as a philanthropist and the daughter of prominent local lawyer and politician, Henry Ruskin. She was mother to Barbara Jean Heyward who was tragically kidnapped from the Heyward home in January 1955. The girl’s case remains open with the Charleston police department. Flowers will be accepted at Sharon and Sons, or memorials may be made to the Children’s Hospital Charities, one of the many charities Mrs. Heyward supported.”

  “It doesn’t say how she died,” Charlie said.

  “We know how she died. She killed herself,” Ben said.

  “I’ve been thinking about that. Something about it seems off,” Charlie said.

  “Off? How?”

  “I’m not certain that she killed herself,” Charlie said.

  “But Jen said her wrists were sliced open,” Ben said.
>
  “I know what Jen said, but I just think there’s more to it than that,” Charlie said.

  “Like what?” Ben asked.

  “She showed herself to Jen, but not to me. And I have no doubt it was her that tried to choke me the other night. I don’t think Barbara Jean knew what was going on either. She screamed and flickered out.”

  “You think she’s hiding from her own daughter?” Ben asked. “Why?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d like to find out. She also showed me that her husband was cheating on her. Evidently, for years.” Charlie sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, stopping to massage the back of her neck. Looking at these machines for hours made her whole body ache.

  “Do you think his philandering led her to kill herself?” Ben said.

  “I don’t know,” Charlie said. “I think something happened. In the first dream I had, he told her that he knew what she’d done that night.”

  “What does that mean?” Ben asked.

  Charlie shook her head. “You got me. I think it had to do with Barbara Jean and whatever it was, it was driving Edwina crazy, literally.”

  “If Sharon and Sons keeps good records, maybe we could find the doctor, you know, from the death certificate,” Ben said. “Who would know more about her inner turmoil than him, right?”

  “I hadn’t thought about that. Although, he’s probably long dead by now. He wasn’t a young man in my dream.”

  “Right,” Ben said.

  “I wonder if her family might have some of the records?” Charlie said.

  “Maybe,” Ben said. “Couldn’t hurt to pursue it.”

  “I think I’ll call the auction house tomorrow and see what I can learn about Edwina’s mother. It was her estate that was being liquidated. Maybe I can find out who the seller was and go talk to them.”

  “That’s a good idea. Want some backup?” Ben said.

  “I’d love some,” Charlie said.

  “So, William has the records,” Tom said rejoining them.

  “Really?” Charlie said.

  “Yes,” Tom said. “We digitized records going back nearly a century about ten years ago, but they’re on a server that’s only kept at the main branch on Calhoun.”

  “Wow, that must have been a huge undertaking,” Ben said.

  “Yes, but we don’t sleep, which gives us a lot of extra time,” Tom explained.

  “Oh. Right,” Ben said. “So any chance we could see the certificate tonight?”

  “Yes. I was just going to suggest we get packed up and go over now.”

  “Sounds perfect, Tom,” Charlie said. He took the microfiche out of the machine and put it back into its protective sleeve. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter 13

  The next morning, Charlie’s cell phone buzzed in her purse. She glanced down at the floorboard of her car at the black leather crossbody bag nestled between Ben's feet.

  "You want me to get that out for you?" he asked.

  "Thanks that’d be great," Charlie said. “It's in the front pocket."

  Ben unzipped the small compartment and retrieved her cell phone. "It's someone name Scott."

  "Crap," Charlie muttered and took the phone from Ben. She pressed the green icon on the screen and put the phone to her ear. "What's up, Scott?"

  "What's up?" Scott said, his voice mocking and full of fury. "You know very well what's up, Charlie."

  "No, actually I don't. Why are you yelling at me?" Charlie said.

  "I'm yelling at you because you gave our son books on paganism and witchcraft. What if my mother saw them? Or Heather?" Scott said.

  Charlie looked out the side window at the slowing traffic to calm herself. "Oh, so you're calling to yell at me, not because you’re upset about the books and their content, but because you're scared of your mama and your girlfriend? Because I know it's not about what you believe, Scott," Charlie countered. "And why the hell do I care what your girlfriend thinks?"

  "Because one day very soon she's going to be my wife," Scott said. "And I care about her feelings."

  She braked behind a pick-up, her face turning as red as the stop sign up ahead. "Well, this is a whole other discussion all of a sudden. You're gonna marry her?" Charlie asked, somehow maintaining control over her temper. "Have you asked Evan how he feels about that?"

  "Evan doesn't get a say in who I decide to spend my life with," Scott said.

  "That's just great," Charlie said. "That is just freaking great. You are essentially discounting his feelings, and that is not cool, Scott. He is your son, and he has to live in that house. If you continue to judge him and treat him the way you treat me . . .“ She had to take a breath or she would lose it, and that wouldn’t help Evan. “Because you're afraid of what your girlfriend might think of some of his exploratory reading, you will lose him. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but you will. And if you do? I pity you. In the end, it won't be Heather who’s wiping your ass and making sure you get your meds on time when you're old."

  The guy behind her sat on his horn reminding her to pull away from the stop sign. She did, grinding her teeth as Scott said, "Why don't you let me worry about Heather. In the meantime, you need to stop giving him reading material that could corrupt him." Scott had that tone that put Charlie back in their marriage, and not in a good way. "He thinks you and your whole damned family hung the moon, Charlie. And I will not allow your ridiculous superstitious beliefs to infect him."

  "You’re being ridiculous," Charlie said lowering her voice. "He’s much more like me than like you. And if you force him to repress that. If you stop him from being who he is, it could kill him. Trust me. I know."

  "No. No," Scott said. "This is where I draw the line. You are not going to turn him into a witch. Or warlock or whatever the hell you call them. I thought we could share custody without issues on how to parent him. I thought we both had his best interest at heart."

  "We do," Charlie said. "There is nothing wrong with giving him space to figure out what he believes and who he is."

  "Not this way," Scott said. "You asked me if he could spend Halloween with you and my answer is no."

  "Scott, be reasonable," Charlie said. How had she let this conversation get away from her?

  "Not about this. If you continue to pursue this, Charlie, I will take you back to court, and I will sue you for full custody. And I will win," Scott said.

  "No. You don't just get to pull the custody card every single time you don't get your way," Charlie said.

  "I'll see you on Sunday, Charlie," Scott said.

  "We're not done —"

  The line went dead. Charlie let out a frustrated scream and squeezed the phone in her hand to keep from throwing it across the interior of the car. Her face felt hot, and she rolled down the window a little to breathe in some fresh air. Her gaze flitted to Ben sitting in the passenger seat. He wore an uncertain expression as if he didn't know exactly what to say to her outburst. The silence swelled between them. She could feel him looking at her with concern in his eyes.

  "Okay, this is stupid. Are you okay?" Ben asked.

  Charlie let out a little laugh, grateful that in the end, Ben's bluntness sliced through the awkwardness. "Yes," she said. "Thank you. I'm fine. It's my ex. He's just an asshole, that's all."

  "You know if you got a piece of his hair we could make a voodoo doll. Maybe a little hex might bring him in line," Ben teased.

  "You're funny. As irritating as Scott can be, he is actually a good father. I know where he's coming from is a place of fear. I just need to figure out how to cut through that," Charlie said. "I know that if I can get him past it, he can be reasonable."

  "What about this chick he's going to marry? Is she reasonable?" Ben asked.

  "I don't know." Charlie shook her head. "I know she's possessive of Scott. And she's already won over his mom, which is a big deal." Charlie flipped on her blinker and turned into the parking lot of the Dalton Brothers Auction House. "I was married to him for ten years, and I
never won her over."

  "She must have sensed your power," Ben said.

  "I don’t know about that," Charlie said.

  "No, seriously. It's not unusual, you know. We’re just very organized balls of energy. I have a theory about witches. I believe that we actually vibrate at a different frequency than most people. And it either draws people to us or pushes them away.”

  “Like a magnet,” Charlie said.

  “Yep. And those that it pushes away, we scare them. Fear is incredibly powerful. It makes us either want to run away or kill the thing that scares us," Ben said. “I wouldn’t take your ex’s reaction lightly. It could cost more than you’re willing to pay.”

  "Great." Charlie pulled into a parking space and put the car in park. "Okay, what do you think I should do?"

  "I think you should have a frank discussion with your ex as calmly as possible. Allay some of his fears. Make sure he knows there's no devil worship or anything ridiculous like that. Help him understand this is our religion, that it’s not any more strange or ritualistic than his religion. I mean, not if you really think about it. We don't worship a dead guy who rose from the grave. At our core, we have a similar message about love. Show him the similarities, not the differences," Ben said.

  "And if he doesn't buy it?" Charlie said. "I don't have the money to take him back to court."

  "You won't need it. I'll make sure of that," Ben said.

  "That sounds a little ominous," Charlie said. "Do I want to know what you would do?"

  "Probably not," Ben said. A devilish grin stretched across his face.

  "You’re a good friend, Ben. Your heart’s in the right place, but I don’t think hexing Scott will help. He’s already going to have a fit when he finds out I’m losing my job." Charlie let out a sigh. "I better not stoke the fire too much."

  "What?" he said. “What do you mean?”

  "My call center's closing. It hasn't been announced officially yet. My supervisor told me and then went on to ask me for a reading about a job opportunity she was applying for," Charlie said.