Allure

red and white beads that convey the power of spoken word and prayer, hoping they’ll help me get this incantation right. Finally, I visualize the most important section, the purple, white, and black beads, the ones intended to make it easier to communicate with the dead. As much as I appreciated Maggie’s help this afternoon, there’s only one dead person I’m hoping will show up tonight, prodded on by the acacia leaves, althaea root, and holy water.

My mind clears. Lifting my lids, I let the words flow:

“Ancient curse cast at the birth of a son,

Stealing his soul when of age he has come,

Cast in revenge for a hideous crime,

Enduring nearly three centuries of time.

From Lady Rose and her child,

Every Beaumont son reviled,

Through each generation,

Thanks to Sabina’s damnation.

But that ends tonight,

As we beckon the light,

And seek the only power,

That can force the curse to cower.

Nothing’s as strong as a mother’s affection,

It offers pure love and unfailing protection,

So we summon Clarissa to help break this curse,

By calling her spirit and reciting her verse:

‘Your heart and mine,

Forever entwined,

Love everlasting,

Till the end of time.’”

The temperature drops at least ten degrees. A crack of thunder booms in the distance.

Cooper’s eyes stretch wide. “You’re calling my mom?” His voice is breathy and filled with apprehension.

“Shh,” I warn, then repeat the verse from the locket two more times. By the time I’ve completed it, Jack and Cooper have caught on, joining in the recitation.

As we chant, the ground rumbles under our feet. Jack’s grip tightens. He’s no doubt thinking about the last earthquake we witnessed beneath the bottle tree at Miss Delia’s. But that was different. Miss Delia was releasing dark magic from some evil curios. We’re doing just the opposite, evoking white magic for protection. I shoot him a reassuring glance and squeeze him back.

A faint yellow light wiggles its way up out of the ground in front of Clarissa’s grave.

My chest swells with joy. It’s working. I recite the verse from the locket again, this time with more feeling and urgency. Jack and Cooper follow my lead.

The wind kicks up and another blast of thunder crashes, this time closer, somewhere above the salt marsh.

The light brightens as it rises from the rich soil. Finally, it emerges, a wisp of dazzling incandescence that curls up into the air like a fancy cursive s. The clearing fills with the sweet scent of jasmine. The light spins slowly toward Cooper, approaching him tentatively, then hovering at his eye level.

“Emma?” His voice quivers.

I complete the last line of the verse, then pause only long enough to answer him. “It’s okay, Cooper. She won’t hurt you. I promise.” I grit my teeth as I swallow the pang trailing up my arm.

Jack and I repeat the poem again, watching as the light encircles Cooper, coils around his arms and torso, then nuzzles his face and hair. It finally comes to rest in the crook of his chest and shoulder.

“It’s her,” he whispers. In the candlelight, a tear works its way down the side of his face. He gazes at the shimmering light. “I’ve missed you so much, Mom.”

Ignoring the hot sensation that’s stinging my eyes, I concentrate on Clarissa’s poem, since I’m sure it’s the key to breaking the curse.

The shimmering light slides away from Cooper, then hovers above the candle on her gravestone. Though it’s just a formless wisp of brilliance, it seems to nod at me, as if it’s waiting for me to take the next step.

Except I’m not sure what that is. I’ve barely gotten us this far, and I don’t have a clue what’s supposed to happen next.

The light nods at me again.

The ruby fragments in my palms suddenly feel cool. It’s a welcome relief for the shock flares that keep racing up my arm from Cooper’s touch. Within seconds, the jewels’ temperature drop again from a comforting chill to frigid.

I suck in a breath at the sensation that’s so cold it’s burning. “Do you guys feel that?” I whisper, as they continue to chant.

“Feel what?” Jack whispers back.

“Never mind.” It must be the work of my spirit guide though I’ve got no idea what she’s trying to say.

My fingertips sting. A supersized brain-freeze grips my head like a vise. My right hand, the one in Cooper’s grasp, spasms from the competing signals that convey hot and cold. I want to let go, but I fight the urge, knowing it’ll break the connection and ruin the spell. Competing forces clash. Against my will, my hand flips over, the ruby fragment clutched between my fingers. The back of my hand is still pressed against Cooper’s palm, maintaining our link.

I wrench my hand to twist it back over, but it won’t move.

Fast as a whip, Clarissa’s spirit bounces toward the uncovered ruby and then wraps around our entwined hands. A second later, the radiant light leaps to each of our joined hands, spiraling around our wrists.

She must want to see the rubies.

“Open your hands, but don’t break the connection,” I whisper, then slip back into the chant. Following my example, they each lift one palm, allowing it to cradle their ruby fragment.

The long, curly light rolls itself into a tight, shimmering ball. The glow intensifies and brightens, then starts to pulse.

Thunder blasts overhead, rattling my chest.

Suddenly the orb shoots three long flares that stretch down to our open palms. The light dances on my hand. It’s warm and effervescent and tickles my skin. An instant later, all three beacons grab hold of the ruby pieces like tractor beams and reel them in toward the center of the bright yellow light.

Jack’s jaw drops. “Holy crap.”

I can’t help but laugh because he’s expressed my sentiment, and most likely Cooper’s, perfectly. Defying gravity is sort of a once-in-a-lifetime thing.

As the rubies grow closer together, their momentum speeds until they finally click together like a three-piece jigsaw. If it weren’t for the fissure lines along each break, I’d think the Beaumont ruby had been miraculously repaired. The fiery-red stones gleam in the spirit’s light.

Lightning strikes, sending a jagged bolt of white electricity into the cemetery just outside our Magic Candle circle.

Jack, Cooper, and I start from the noise. A high-pitched squeal escapes my throat. But rather than slip from each other’s grasp, the jolt only causes us to interlace our fingers and clutch harder.

Rain falls, spattering the surrounding kudzu and dotting the newly cleared plot below our feet. I tilt my head toward the shadowy black sky. The cool drops dot my forehead and eyelashes, refreshing my sticky skin.

As my nerves settle, I recite the poem from the locket once again. The words seem to fuel the orb’s power. Its yellow hue brightens and flashes like a miniature sun. The ruby cluster spins in midair. Revolving clockwise, the jewels gains momentum. As it whirls in a tight spiral, the rubies’ color dims to a dull brick red.

The wind blasts and the sky opens up, dumping a deluge on the clearing. My hair plasters against my head and my clothes are drenched as fat, heavy raindrops pelt the ground so hard, they ricochet and slap my bare legs. Somehow the white altar candle and mullein torches withstand the assault, burning as bright as ever.

A shriek emits from the center of the light, as if the ruby pieces are screaming and begging for their lives. In response, the light appears to rotate faster, whipping the gems around like a centrifuge ride at an amusement