Nine

A week went by without an event, but that didn't make it an average week. I spent even more time alone than normal, Liz not having come back to work and Jessie never calling to hang out. I knew I should've called and apologize to Jessie. I didn't want us to not be talking to each other, but I also had no idea how to tell her what was going on, so I put it off.

On Wednesday, I woke up and left my apartment, starting the day off by walking to the corner store to get some snacks, for lack of anything else to do. In my groggy state, I passed the store without realizing it. When I finally looked around and realized where I was, I made an aggravated sound aloud, but kept walking.

Since I'm walking this way, I'll see if Liz is home. I knew that she wouldn't be home, but a tiny part of me hoped. I almost hoped that she was hiding out and boozing on wine, because at least then I would know she was safe. Hell, I'd even have been be a little relieved if she'd relapsed on drugs if that meant she hadn't been kidnapped.

I called her as I started getting close. This time it didn't even ring and went straight to voicemail, followed by a computerized voice saying, this mailbox is full. I was disconnected before I could even hang up. When I looked up from my phone, I saw her house and that someone was walking out, a dark-haired woman in grubby clothes, struggling a little to carry a large vacuum down the three steps.

"Hey, excuse me!" I said, quickening my pace.

The vacuum clattered down the stairs and she set it right side up on the sidewalk. When she turned her face to me she smiled politely. She was a pretty, older woman probably in her fifties, with tan skin and dark brown hair pulled into a loose ponytail.

"I'm one of Liz's friends. Is she home?"

Her brow furrowed and she frowned. "No, she isn't in," she said simply.

"Well, have you seen her?" I pressed.

She sighed and looked toward the harbor. "It's not really my business and I shouldn't give out information about her, but…" She met my eyes again, concern showing plain on her face. "I don't see her most times I come, so normally I wouldn't think anything of it, but she usually leaves a check for me. I cleaned anyway, because I have been cleaning for her family for a long time."

That was a little bit more information than was appropriate, but I dismissed the inappropriateness, as the information was to my advantage. "Maybe she forgot?" I offered.

"Maybe." She rolled the vacuum to her green minivan with maid service stickers on it while she talked. "But the strangest part is, I don't think anything's been touched since last week. Her bed was still made and that's definitely a first." I helped her pick up the vacuum and set it in the back, and she closed the hatch over it. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," I said and smiled weakly.

She went to get into her car. "Know what I think?" she said, turning back to me.

"No, what?" I asked.

"She's probably just staying with her family this week. That's a good family, the Long family. They stick together."

I nodded and kept my smile in place as best as I could. Maybe Liz was spending the week with her family. Another thought occurred to me: maybe she had relapsed and gone to rehab. When you go to rehab, you give up your phone and you lose all contact with the outside world, except your close family. Maybe that's what Liz had called me about before she had so suddenly vanished. I sighed loudly, feeling some of my tension release. That had to be what had happened. "You're probably right," I said, finding it easy to sound reassuring. "Well, goodbye."

"Goodbye," she said and got into her car, shutting the door as I started walking again. I walked past the last few houses on the street, past the small park to where King Street came to an end at Murray Street (or the Charleston Battery, if you're a local). This area overlooking the Charleston Harbor was bustling with tourists, who unknowingly always came when the weather was the worst: the summer. Too hot and muggy to enjoy the sights, that's for sure. I leaned over the railing, looking into the water a few feet below. The sun was getting low, not too low where I would want to be safe at my apartment, but low enough for it to get in my eyes when I looked toward the harbor. The sun was also hot on my skin, almost painful, and I knew I'd have to run to the shade soon or I'd be sunburned tomorrow.

I sighed loudly, feeling like I couldn't escape this worry I was holding onto. Liz had gone missing right after he had asked about her. Even if the most logical and likely scenario was that Liz had gone back to rehab, it wouldn't be right to try to just hope that that was the case and not look into it. Maybe I could contact her family somehow. If she wasn't at rehab, then what would I do?

The sudden ringing coming from my bag stopped my thoughts and I fished my cell phone out. Tansy, the screen read.

"Hello?"

"Cara," Tansy's voice came through. "It's me, Tansy."

"I know," I answered. "What's up?"

"Oh, okay, right. Um, would you like to come over for dinner tonight?" When I didn't answer right away, she added, "It's kind of important."

An hour later, and just before the sun set, I was knocking on the door of Tansy's little brown house. I stared at the green door while I waited, my eyes fixed on the wreath with the star in the center made out of sticks. A pentagram. I associated the pentagram with Satanism or evil, and I was curious why they had it on their door and what it meant to them.

Tansy opened the door and was heavily made up in black eyeliner and lipstick like she had been when I'd first met her. She was wearing a faded black shirt and purple jeans with not-so-expertly added studs and doodles drawn on them. I immediately noticed that she was sporting a new, crusty looking tattoo on the right side of her neck. It was a small symbol, which looked to me like the trinity symbol with an added ring around it. A Celtic trinity knot, I believe it's called? If she hadn't been looking straight at me, I might not have seen it through her almost shoulder-length cropped hair.

"Hey, come in," she said, opening the door wider.

"Is that a new tattoo?" I asked, walking inside.

Tansy shut the door behind me and lightly touched her neck as if she had forgotten it was there. "Yeah, it is. I gave it to myself last week. It's the Wiccan symbol for protection." Her inexpertly drawn tattoos suddenly made sense, especially the way those on one arm looked sloppier than those on the other.

"Wow, I feel like that would be so painful—tattooing yourself."

"I'm used to it," she said with a shrug.

"I don't have any tattoos, because I couldn't imagine picking anything that I'd want on my skin forever," I said.

"Well, I don't tattoo myself for the sake of making art, like some people do," she said, rubbing her arms absentmindedly. "Almost all my tattoos have to do with life lessons that I want to remember, some of them spells that I want to have on a moment's notice. I guess in my own way, it's art; the story and lessons of Tansy McGee." I had noticed that there were hardly any designs, mostly just writing. She was like a walking, talking journal! I had the urge to lift her arm and look more closely at the words, but that might be inappropriate. If she were taller and more at my eye-level, they would have been easier to make out. And some, I was sure, had to be in a different language. No one's handwriting was just that sloppy. "My dad hates my tattoos. My mom doesn't much like them either, but I think she likes the idea of me writing things I learn. I think she prefers me to write them on paper though—I guess we'll wait for my mom in the kitchen," she added, leading me toward the kitchen.

Now that the lights were on inside the house, I could see that even though the McGee family wasn't rich, they weren't as poor as I had originally thought. They definitely spent their money differently than most. The couch was worn and on the verge of cracking with old age and heavy usage, for example. The living room was altogether simple and gave the impression that they were low-income, but the kitchen was nothing short of extravagant and appeared to have been remodeled within the last few years.

The kitchen and dining room were a conjoined space, the kitchen on the right and the dining area on the left. The far right wall had whitewashed brick that reminded me of the stone circle in the backyard. The walls were off-white, but most everything else, the wood floor and cabinets, were rich brown in color. On the wall above the stove, a quote had been expertly painted: "An it harm none, do what ye will." I felt like I had seen that quote before, but I couldn't recall where.

One large copper pot sat on the stove, steaming and filling the room with a delicious smell. It smelled spicy and sweet and my stomach grumbled.

The table and chairs at the dining area were brown, which matched the off white and brown tones in the kitchen. Against the wall on the far left was a large shelf like you'd see for separating mail. In every small slot was a little jar, at least a hundred of them, all containing spices, herbs, and dried flowers. If it was a spice rack, it was the craziest one I'd ever seen!

"Wow, your mom must be very into cooking," I guessed, looking at all the spices and herbs.

"You can kind of say that. But it's not just food she likes to cook," Tansy said. I stared at her, and seeing my empty expression, she added, "She also cooks spells."

"Oh," I said, not sure of what else to say. This whole witch and spell thing was still something I was a little unsure about. Growing up with my on-and-off religious mother, I'd heard that people who believed they were witches were either crazy or worshipped the devil. Though I believed in demons, recently more than ever, real witches were harder to swallow.

"A witch doesn't exactly fly on a broomstick or make love potions," a voice said as if reading my mind. "Most witches' spells are spiritual, sort of like prayer."

I turned to see who I guessed was Tansy's mother, though she looked like she might be her hippie older sister. She was very short, like Tansy, no taller than five feet. Her strawberry blond hair was put in a simple half-up do, the hair around her face pulled out of the way, while the rest trailed down her back. The blue maxi dress she wore had flow-y sleeves and showed the barest hint of bare feet underneath. Her features were pixy-like, and her blue eyes were surprisingly warm. Only the barest hint of wrinkles around her eyes and mouth hinted that she was older. I could easily picture this woman tending to the garden outside or even dancing around a fire in the moonlight. I knew instantly that there was something different about her, my brain somehow registering her as other.

"I'm Tansy's mother, Darlene," she said extending her arm for a shake. I put my hand in hers and her shake was surprisingly firm for such a small hand.

"Hi, Ms. Darlene, I am Cara."

"I know who you are," she said. "I would have recognized you in a crowd of faces… and you can just call me Darlene! Ms. Darlene makes me sound so old."

I blinked at her. She would recognize me in a crowd of faces? That was odd. "Okay, Darlene," I said, trying to leave out the Ms., though it almost pained me to do so. Calling someone's mom by just her first name is frowned upon in the South, especially in my household.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cara," she said and went toward the pot on the stove to give it a stir. "I hope you like chili."

"I love chili," I answered.

"It's vegetarian," Tansy piped in. "We are strict vegetarians. But I think you'll still like it. It's my favorite."

"It's called Apple Autumn Chili," Ms. Darlene said. "It tastes a lot like regular chili, but sweeter and with slivers of green apple."

I made an approving mmm sound.

"Mom, you probably don't remember what regular chili tastes like," Tansy said and they laughed together. I smiled. You could see the love and warmth between them, something you don't always get to witness between mother and daughter. Though the house and the Magee family were obviously different than my own, it felt nice to be there. The whole house exuded a vibe of warmth and happiness.

Darlene scooped the chili into three green bowls for us and we all sat at the dinner table, eating and making small talk about the summer heat and gardening. When I was the first one to finish my bowl, Darlene set her spoon down and sighed. "Cara, we invited you over for more than just chili," she said. "Tansy told me everything. Your little rendezvous in the woods…"

I glanced at Tansy, who was suddenly shoveling chili in her mouth at an alarming rate.

"And your experience with the shadow," Darlene continued, emphasizing the one word while returning her gaze to Tansy.

I figured what she meant, but I wanted to make sure. "What's a shadow?" I asked, looking from one to the other. "I mean, I know what a shadow is, but…"

"I don't mean the shadow you leave on the ground," she said. "I am talking about evil spirits. Tansy knows about shadows, and I was simply a little disappointed that she referred to them as demons." I could feel a sudden tension in the room, like we were stirring up a past argument.

"Well, the book had horned, red figures, Mom. Don't get mad if that was what I assumed," Tansy said, glancing up at her mom while hovering over her empty chili bowl.

"If you don't mind me asking, what's the difference?" I asked.

Ms. Darlene looked like she wanted to say something to Tansy, but with some effort, she tore her eyes away from Tansy to look at me. "A demon is from the Christian religion. We don't believe in the Christian God, Jesus, or Satan. Therefore, we don't believe demons exist. You see, shadows are the bad entities that roam the earth," she explained, putting a lot of emphasis on that one word again.

Tomato, Tomata, I wanted to say, but I thought better about saying it aloud. The way Darlene kept looking at Tansy, that wasn't a can of worms I wanted to open.

"I'm only a little disappointed in Tansy, because she should know this. I guess this is my fault for not informing her, but demons don't exist. Shadows exist. That is why we make a book of shadows, to record our séances and spells that fight against them. That is what you stole from my friend, Amaryllis. Her book of shadows." The last part was aimed at Tansy and held a biting edge.

"I didn't steal it, Mom. Becca did!" Tansy said, dropping her spoon into her empty bowl.

"Right, your friend stole it. Still, you should have come to me."

Tansy made an exasperated groan. We were definitely digging up a previous argument, and I felt slightly awkward. I vaguely wondered why I had been invited and what this had to do with me.

Again, as if reading my mind, Darlene said, "I'll tell you why I've asked you here."

Tansy stood and started collecting the dirty bowls and spoons. I started to help, grabbing the cups, but Darlene stopped me. "Let Tansy do that," she said, touching my hand lightly. Her touch was gentle and soothing, a mother's touch, but I sensed something else. Like maybe behind this little pixy-like woman, there was something stronger. I let the cups go and Tansy scooped them up, awkwardly juggling them and the bowls.

"I've asked you to come here, because I had a dream about you last night—"

"You had a dream about me," I said to clarify.

"Yes, I had what I believe is a premonition. I saw you and another girl. A girl with beautiful, long black hair—"

"Liz!" I exclaimed, my eyes widening to the size of saucers. I hadn't mentioned Liz to Tansy, had I? I was almost sure that I hadn't.

"Yes, I saw you two together in a whole different world. A city in some other dimension or something—I'm not sure. It's a world of black and neon, which was the strangest and most vivid thing I've ever dreamed. I saw you being drawn to someone—someone calling out to you—and I believe it is going to be a trap. When the voice sings to you and draws you in, you must stop yourself. Does this make sense to you?"

"Not really," I murmured. Being in some alternate universe with Liz? No, it didn't make sense at all.

"I felt a glimpse of the power, and it will be hard to resist, achingly strong, but you must say no and turn away. Or you and hundreds, maybe thousands, of others will be lost," she continued, staring off at nothing. She looked at me again and added, "I was hoping you'd be able to shed some light on this."

"The only thing that sounds familiar is Liz," I said, shrugging my shoulders. Darlene scrutinized me with her blue eyes and when I looked at Tansy, who was leaning on the counter by the kitchen sink, she had a similar expression. They were waiting for me to say something, I think, but I had no enlightening words. I wasn't sure what any of this meant!

"I went to Tansy's room as soon as I awoke this morning to tell her my dream," Darlene continued, "and she had pulled her bed to the middle of the room and had a large ring of salt around it. I knew then that something was wrong."

"I had to tell her everything," Tansy broke in. "Our curse-lifting in the woods and the…shadow."

"And as soon as I told Tansy my premonition, she knew it was you," said Darlene.

"Blond hair and black eyes is not a combination you see every day," Tansy added sheepishly. I knew that to be true. I hadn't met anyone else my whole life with blond hair and black eyes.

"This is hard for me to take in," I said. And believe, I thought. "I'm not sure where to go from here."

"Let's go through the book of shadows that belonged to Amaryllis. Come with me to my safe room," Darlene said, standing and motioning me to follow her into a hallway off the dining room.

"Okay," I said uncertainly.

STOP!

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