Magic & Mistletoe, Confessions of a Closet Medium, Book 2 Page 10

  I sort of am, since Dad will eventually come home, and Logan will want to see me. I go to Aunt Willa’s desk and pull out the paper I’ve copied the sigils from the box on.

  I show Sage the attic, the cats following. She eyes the spot I’ve prepared on the floor and nods, signaling it will do.

  I give her the items from the shop and she opens her bag, removing various tools. She lines all of them up, closes her eyes and says a prayer over them.

  Done with that, she goes about drawing a circle with a pentagram inside, adding candles, and pouring black salt around the outer perimeter. She settles, legs crossed, near the bottom of the circle and closes her eyes once more. Her lips move silently.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” I tell her, picking up the chalk.

  She doesn’t respond, continuing her inaudible words, and I make my exit.

  If a hex box works because of the sigils on the sides, why I can’t I use a similar method on my house? Winter suggested it and it seemed like a form of insurance, too. If Cocheta escapes the attic, maybe they’ll still bind her to the building.

  One way or another, I’m going to get her ghost to cross over, but I’m not taking chances that she’ll flee before I manage that.

  I start at the east side of the house, following the layout from the box I’ve copied to the paper. Winter has given me specific phrases to empower them. As I draw the first sigil and say the words, I see it glow slightly in the murky twilight. When I draw the second on the north this one also glows, but brighter.

  By the time I make it around to sketch the final sigil, its glow is bright enough to blind me for a moment. Feeling more confident, I return to the attic.

  Sage is still seated but cracks an eye open at my approach. “Bring me the necklace.”

  I do as instructed, keeping it in the hex box. She rises to take it and places it in the center of the pentagram. “It would be more powerful if we had two more witches.”

  “I can come up with one.”

  She glances over to the rocking chair in the corner. I follow her gaze and find Tabitha washing her face with her paw. “Yep,” I confirm. “She’s my great-grandmother several times removed, and from what I’ve been able to ascertain, she falls in that category.”

  I call to the feline, but of course, she ignores me. Marching over, I reach down and pick her up, ignoring her cries. “Where do you want her?” I ask.

  Sage smirks, pointing to the circle. “Place her in the north, since she is your ancestor. You take the south.” Her finger moves to the opposite side.

  I set Tabitha down at the top of the pentagram and take the spot across from her. Persephone appears and examines the setup. “Do you know what you’re doing?” she asks.

  Sage looks right at her, and I realize she can hear her, too. Maybe see her.

  “I think we have a pretty good handle on things,” I tell the angel.

  She’s wearing outrageous layers of pink and purple eyeshadow, a bright green scarf, and a flowing dress with rhinestones sewn into it. She hovers and leans toward the hex box, screwing up her nose. “I have the feeling this is well beyond what you and this girl can control. I think I better stay.”

  To be honest, Persephone makes me nervous when she’s not annoying me. “A lovely idea,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t give away my doubts. I glance at Sage. “Is that okay?”

  Sage gives me a one-shoulder shrug. “All the same to me. Are you a witch?” she asks Persephone.

  Persephone sniffs. “Spirit guide.”

  Sage scrutinizes her a moment, then switches to the hex box. “Let’s do this.”

  She closes her eyes and I follow suit, but before we can begin, Sherlock materializes. “You can’t do this without me,” he announces.

  He floats directly across from Persephone, each at a point on the pentagram. I feel a surge of electricity as all of our energies suddenly connect. Sage opens an eye and looks at the ghost, raising a brow to me.

  I mimic her and shrug. “It can’t hurt, can it?”

  I’m sort of relieved she can see and hear the spirits and I don’t have to explain.

  She shakes out her fingers as if releasing some of the energy flowing through the circle and sighs. “If you’re going to help, you have to promise not to interfere with my spell.”

  “Interfere?” Apparently, she knows the ghost better than I do, and now I’m worried about his presence. “What do you mean by that?” I demand of them.

  Persephone tsks. “We don’t need you,” she insists to him. “You better be on your way and let us deal with this.”

  The two begin arguing, and I rub my forehead. “Enough!” I’m tired of having to intervene in all of these arguments lately, but it seems like I have no choice. “I’ll kick both of you out if you can’t behave yourselves.”

  Glaring at them over the circle, I notice Tabby grinning.

  Not the type suggesting she’s enjoying this, but one that tells me she has a secret.

  I’m honestly not sure if I can trust any of them, but I have no choice.

  Persephone rolls her eyes at my threat and looks away, crossing her arms. Sherlock simply appears abashed and nods.

  “Okay then.” I take a deep breath and motion Sage to continue. “Please continue.”

  Once more, she draws herself up, closing her eyes and reciting a blessing of protection.

  Her voice is mesmerizing, reassuring. I try to tune out everything pertaining to my dad’s innocence, my parents in general, and the ball, pulling up Logan’s face to calm and center me.

  Before we get to the first step of the un-hexing, the lights flicker and the candles blow out.

  Clear as day, a man’s voice booms in the small space. “Your daddy’s gonna pay for what he did to me!”

  Startled, I open my eyes and gasp.

  Sean O’Reilly’s ghost is bearing down on me.

  Chapter Twenty

  His hands are like claws, nails elongated, and he swipes at me.

  I scream and jump back.

  My body is wracked with a frigid chill, but the attack does nothing more. No searing pain, as Sean passes right through me.

  Heart thumping, I glare at him as he circles overhead. “My father didn’t kill you. Haylee Dean did.”

  The ghost makes a crazy laughing noise, even though his lips don’t move. His eyes are wild and his spectral form trembles, the shape fading in and out, like a TV relying on rabbit ears that can’t quite get a strong reception. “Your daddy will paaayyy.”

  He launches himself at me again, but this time I don’t move. His claw goes through my abdomen this time, his energy baptizing me in bitter cold before he soars and loops upward to the rafters.

  “Come back and tell me what happened that day,” I yell, but he disappears at the peak, the white apparition turning into nothing but wisps that vanish.

  Shaking from the overdose of adrenaline, I bounce on the balls of my feet a few times, shaking out my hands like Sage did earlier.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Fine.” I steady myself once more. “Sorry about that. I have a lot going on right now, and along with breaking this hex, I’m trying to solve a murder mystery.”

  She seems undisturbed, almost intrigued. “Cool.”

  Something like that.

  Persephone taps a foot, the shoe making no sound, which kind of dilutes the impatience of the action. “Can we get started now?”

  What does she have to be in a hurry about? She’s dead! Well, not alive in the corporeal sense, anyway. “After this, you’re going to help me track down Sean’s killer,” I tell her, “and don’t give me any backtalk about how you can’t tell me anything. Even if you can’t, you can give me clues, big ones and fast.”

  She lifts her chin in defiance like a spoiled child, but I know she’ll come through. I’ve come to realize her act is exactly that. While she pretends she doesn’t like her guardian angel role, I think she enjoys it immensely.

  As our energies reconne
ct, Tabby stands on all four feet, looking alert and flicking her tail.

  Sherlock adjusts his glasses and rolls his shoulders. “I’d feel better about this if we’d located the preacher.”

  Persephone hovers in place. “I’ve put out a call to one who’ll show up if needed.”

  We all stare at her and she gives us a tiny shrug. “What? I’m connected to a lot of various kinds of spirits. I leaned on somebody who can help. If we need him, he’ll come.”

  I’m not sure whether to feel worried or relieved.

  Sage nods. “Third time’s a charm, right?”

  Her attempt at humor makes me chuckle, even though my nerves are strung tight. I tell myself to relax and trust Persephone. She talks a lot of smack, but she comes through when my backside is on the line.

  Pretty sure it is right now. “I hope this works.”

  “Ninety-nine percent of a successful spell is intention, Ava.” Sage winks. “It will work if you believe it will.”

  Closing my eyes, I repeat I believe, I believe, I believe. I let the echo of her words calm my heartbeat and align my energy with that of the spell as she begins reciting it.

  We chant, the energy flows, and when the moment’s right, I do as Sage instructs—I call on Cocheta with all my might.

  Sage waves a hand at the box and the lid flies open. Inside the necklace lays unmoving, as if asleep.

  More chanting, our voices rising.

  Tabby’s eyes turn a shiny gold color, the supernatural light seeming to almost lift her body off the floor.

  Persephone is serious now, her brow furrowed with concentration. Sherlock holds out his hands toward the box, but I can’t tell if he’s trying to summon the necklace, or ward against it.

  “Call her name three times,” Sage instructs.

  “Cocheta Bonham Reynaud.” I repeat it twice more. “I summon you to come forth.”

  The necklace trembles, the locket flies open.

  Deep inside my belly, fear roils. The blood pumping through my heart seems to grow cold. My legs shake, my hands buzzing from the energy and magick. I swallow hard, her name like a rough pit in my throat.

  “What’s happening?” I whisper when no ghost appears.

  Sage chews her gum in consternation, smacking it loudly and blowing a bubble. “Try again.”

  I raise my voice, firming it. “Cocheta Bonham Reynaud, I command you to come forth.”

  The necklace rises as if by invisible hands. It turns slowly around the circle, the locket’s two halves stopping as though they are eyes looking at me.

  “Who calls me forth?” A woman’s voice, clear and authoritative, rings out.

  Mamma Nightengale warned me not to give my name to Cocheta. Names have great power, and so I’m careful as I answer. “I am the granddaughter of a great and powerful witch, and I’m prepared to break the curse that keeps you bound in that jewelry.”

  There’s a long, pregnant pause. The locket hovers near my face. “What motive would you have to perform such an act? What is the price?”

  I force as much confidence as I can into my reply. “In return for your freedom, you must do my bidding.”

  Cocheta laughs, the sound echoing in the room. “I do no witch’s bidding.”

  The locket falls to the floor at my feet, lifeless.

  I swallow against the tightness in my throat and glance around. The circle should be holding her spirit, but I can’t see it. “Where did she go?” I hiss.

  We all scan the area. Shoulder shrugs and shaking heads tell me no one else can see or sense her either.

  Sage points to the necklace, which begins vibrating. “She’s still trapped.”

  It takes turns bouncing toward each of us, stopping when it touches the edge of the circle and jumping back. Checking the boundaries.

  Then it swivels and dives for the space between me and Persephone. Once more, it hits the chalk and salt and springs backward, like a robot vacuum that keeps bumping into a wall.

  Phew. The circle seems to be doing its job. “I have a simple request,” I explain as she continues to try and penetrate the circle. “One that’s straightforward and benefits us both.”

  The locket floats in the air, whizzing around the perimeter, continuing to look for weak spots.

  I throw out my last offensive move. “If you refuse, Cocheta. I will bind you in there for another two hundred years.”

  The locket pauses, hovers.

  I suck in a breath when it races back to dangle right in front of my face.

  I steel myself. Sage told me I cannot break the circle, and I force my feet to stay planted.

  As it flutters up and down my body, I sense Cocheta is sniffing me. I almost check my underarms to see if my deodorant has failed.

  Finally, she speaks, a haughty sound. “You have no power.”

  Since I’m not sure if I do or don’t, I resist engaging in a pissing contest with her. I feel the tick-tock of time running out. “This circle contains a great amount of it, and you know it.”

  Persephone and Sage stare at me, and I wish I could read their minds. Did I say something wrong?

  Then I realize they aren’t looking at me. I feel a hand on my shoulder. My chest warms.

  “She’s trying to intimidate you,” my aunt whispers in my ear.

  “Aunt Willa?”

  Her beautiful face fades in and out next to me. “The only person who lacks power in this room is her.”

  I stare at the locket, feeling more confident. “Seems to me you don’t have many options,” I tell Cocheta. “You were cursed by a preacher’s daughter. Not even a real witch, like yourself. Magick is an equal opportunity employer. You don’t own it.”

  Another ghost appears near Sherlock. He’s dressed in a white shirt, black pants, and wears a large gold cross around his neck. “She’s right, Cocheta. What my daughter did to you was wrong, and you had every right to be angry about your land and what happened, but it’s time for us to put all of these trespasses to rest.”

  All of us, including Tabby, stare wide-eyed at the preacher.

  Everyone, that is, except Persephone. “You got my message.”

  He offers a cryptic grin. “For you, Seph, anything.”

  He winks and I nearly fall over.

  “You’re Birdie’s father.” Stop flirting with my guardian angel.

  His grin turns to me. “I’d say in the flesh, but we all know that’s inaccurate. In the spirit, so it appears.”

  Another wink.

  A new surge of energy ripples through the circle. Tabby shapeshifts.

  Into her naked female form.

  Everyone’s attention obviously swings to her. “Tabitha,” I warn.

  The necklace whirls to face preacher however. “You!”

  As we watch, Billie Dupree raises a hand in the air, peeling his gaze away from my grandmother. “In the name of our Lord, I release the curse placed upon you, Cocheta Bonham Reynaud. Your sins are washed away, as is the binding that holds you.”

  Sage and I exchange a worried glance. This isn’t part of our spell.

  The necklace flies straight up in the air, and then crashes down, exploding in front of our eyes. The hex box erupts in flames.

  From them emerges the ghost of Christmas Past—a beautiful dark-skinned woman.

  Her hair is braided, an intricately beaded cape on her shoulders. It covers a beautiful, garnet colored dress underneath.

  Her dark eyes are vivid and intense, glowing with an energy I don’t like. Anger, hatred, revenge.

  She flies inside the circle, stretching and growing larger. “I’ll take what’s mine,” she screams at me as she passes. “I denounce your offer.”

  “What have you done?” I ask Dupree.

  He continues holding out his hand, and doesn’t seem concerned in the least. “Don’t you fret now, Miss Ava. I’ve got this under control.”

  He winks a third time, but his forehead is creased. In worry or consternation?

  I believe, I believe, I b
elieve.

  But I don’t. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, and now I’m not sure what to do.

  I hold my ground, but then Sage yells, “Look out!”

  Tabby screeches, Persephone calls my name, and I hear Aunt Willa in my head say, “Duck!”

  Cocheta latches onto me.

  She breaks right through the salt line, her cold, ghostly fingers grabbing me around the neck. Unlike Sean, she’s able to touch me, her non-corporeal fingers digging deep to cut off my air.

  I struggle against her grip, but can’t get hold of her. A new kind of energy fills my chest, making my heart beat so hard and fast, I feel as if it will explode like the necklace.

  As Cocheta’s dark eyes bore into mine, I sense black magick flooding through me.

  I see Tabitha step toward us. I fall to my knees, but the black magick doesn’t let go. Cocheta’s gaze fills my vision and the room fades away.

  I hear the preacher shout for divine intervention right before everything goes dark.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I wake to a heavy gray mist and hear the murmur of voices around me. Some are close, others far away.

  A heaviness presses in on my ears.

  My skin prickles at the sensation of ghosts. The mist is thick, and I have the sense to stay quiet and not alert the spirits that I’m among them.

  Glancing down, I realize my body is fading in and out of itself, my astral half disengaging from the flesh and bone that keeps me human. My head hurts, and below my throat, where Cocheta’s fingers were wrapped, I feel slightly numb.

  I need to get back, I think, but the idea is slippery and as misty as the fog.

  The attic. Right? I need to return there to…

  What? I can’t remember.

  What I do remember is this feeling. I can’t feel my pulse anymore, don’t seem to have a heartbeat. I can’t help the whimpering that comes from my throat. Have I died again?

  Oh no. My brain clears slightly. Not here. Not now.

  I have to get back to the attic.

  Where I am now is a little too close to the other side.

  The last time my near-death experience was over in a flash, and I only saw Aunt Willa, but this time?