Conjured, Page 2

  Unless Jonah Van Curen’s journal was found.

  He may have information in the journal about what happened on the night my father was murdered. The problem was that no one, including the surviving members of the Gamma fraternity, knew where the journal was hidden.

  Vanessa placed the box on the floor. “You know he really loved her.”

  “What?”

  “Ethan really loved your mother.”

  “Yeah?” My heart tightened.

  “Emma loved fireflies. During the summer, we would sit outside every night and watch them light up the sky. I outgrew my fascination, but she didn’t.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  Vanessa nodded. “I’ll never forget Emma’s birthday, the one right before Ethan went missing. It was February and snowing. Emma and Ethan were bundled up with blankets sitting on the back porch of our old house.”

  Grandma Claudia’s house in Hazel Cove had a wraparound porch and a big backyard enclosed by trees. She’d sold that house when I was little and moved here to Salem.

  “Emma couldn’t do magic, of course,” Vanessa said. “And she didn’t like to hear about anything witchy from mom or me, but with Ethan – she didn’t care. They were on the back porch swing and, with a wave of Ethan’s hand, hundreds of fireflies appeared.”

  Vanessa’s smile spread into a large grin. “I wish you could have seen it. Their little lights reflected off the snow. I was spying on them through the back window and-”

  I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve, but then it hit me.

  “What’s wrong?” Vanessa asked.

  “She didn’t know.”

  “What?”

  “Emma didn’t believe. In magic, in witches, in our history, in any of it. Grandma Claudia told me that Emma thought she was delusional.”

  A small crease formed in between Vanessa’s eyes. “Emma knew.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Emma knew what our family was and she knew what Ethan was.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “She hated magic,” Vanessa said. “She hated our lineage, so much so that she pretended it didn’t exist. Maybe it was because she wasn’t a witch. I don’t know. It got to the point where we couldn’t discuss any of it in front of her. She claimed it wasn’t real. That we were all crazy.”

  “But what about Ethan and the fireflies?”

  “Ethan was the exception to the rule. She was so madly in love with him that she didn’t care that he was a witch.”

  “Why did she lie to me?”

  Vanessa shrugged. “She didn’t want that life for you. Witches. Magic. When you were born she made us swear that we wouldn’t mention any of it to you. That’s why Emma and mom butted heads so much.”

  I slouched back in the chair. “I wish all the lies would stop. I’m sick and tired of finding out a new secret every day.”

  “When your mom feels better, you two need to sit down and have a long talk. About everything.”

  Emma knew all along. She never bothered to tell me or warn me about anything. I snatched Sarah Ross’ journal from the table and flipped through the pages to take my mind off my mother. I was irritated and I didn’t want to cause an accident.

  Sarah Ross wrote about her life on every available square inch of paper. Nothing really stood out, but I liked the obsessive way she wrote in the book. I added Sarah’s journal to my stack of books for keeping.

  “I still can’t find it.” Vanessa was reading the spines on the bookshelf.

  “What’s that?”

  “Your grandmother’s latest journal.”

  I bit my lip. “Really? That’s odd. Are you sure she was still writing in them?”

  “Positive. She usually kept it on her bedside table, but it wasn’t there. I thought she might have left it down here, but there’s no sign of it.”

  “Maybe it will turn up,” I lied.

  Vanessa wasn’t going to find Grandma Claudia’s journal anytime soon. It was currently stashed under the closet floorboards of our new house.

  Something strange occurred the night Grandma Claudia died. And I was going to figure out what happened. In the meantime, I wasn’t going to let the police or anyone else speculate about my grandmother.

  The symbol was the key to solving the mystery. I was hoping there was some clue in my grandmother’s journal that would help me figure out what the symbol meant. I learned a hard lesson a few weeks ago - I couldn’t trust anyone, but Peter. Not that I didn’t trust Vanessa. I just wanted to keep Grandma Claudia’s journal a secret for now.

  Vanessa yawned. “I’m beat. Do you want to get out of here? I think I’ve breathed in way too much dust today.”

  I stacked the books into the box with my name scribbled on the side.

  The urge to ask Vanessa was growing, but she didn’t know about the symbol Grandma Claudia drew before she died. I had no idea what it meant. The strange symbol wasn’t mentioned in any of the spell books, in my grandmother’s journal or in any of the history or research books. It was one big fat mystery.

  What was the harm in asking? “Can I ask you a quick question?”

  “Sure.”

  I flipped over a copy of the house appraisal and grabbed a blue magic marker. I drew the symbol that Grandma Claudia had drawn in her own blood. I recalled every detail from memory and etched the drawing with as much precision as I could muster.

  “Do you know what this symbol means?” I placed the cap back on the magic marker. I looked up at Vanessa because she hadn’t answered.

  All the blood drained from her face. She blinked a few times and then licked her lips. “How do you know that symbol?”

  “I, uh, I don’t know the symbol. I saw it… in a dream,” I lied.

  Vanessa tapped the drawing with her finger. “You saw that symbol in a dream?”

  “Do you know what it means?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, what does it mean?” I asked a little impatiently. Her reaction was worrying me.

  “It’s a conjuring symbol.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s the symbol that’s used when a conjuring spell is performed. Alex, this is very dark stuff you’re talking about. Can you tell me about your dream?”

  “I don’t really remember it.”

  Vanessa frowned. “I suggest you forget ever seeing that symbol.”

  “But what is it used for?”

  “I told you. It’s for conjuring.”

  “Yeah, but conjuring what?”

  Vanessa took a deep breath. “Spirits. And not the friendly kind.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Turning into the familiar neighborhood, I had to remind myself not to drive down Peter’s street. We lived a few blocks away from the LaViollette house, but even after two weeks the idea was still a foreign concept to me. We were renting a small two-bedroom home from Dr. Cooper and I already loved the house a million times more than Victor’s mansion in the Hallows.

  Of course, no one in Hazel Cove knew the real reason why Victor left (other than Emma, Vanessa and Peter). Our cover story was that Victor was into some “shady” dealings, took all of our money and skipped town.

  Hey, it was basically true.

  All the lights were on in the little white house with navy shutters. Peter’s truck and Mrs. LaViollette’s car were both parked in the driveway. I pulled the rental car in front of the house, walked through the snowy grass and up the concrete porch.

  Scooby, my grandmother’s Chihuahua, was the first to greet me. I picked up the chunky dog before he launched himself at my knees.

  “Hey,” Anne Marie said from the recliner. She didn’t look up from her cell phone. Her fingers were rapidly texting and her smile grew wider and wider with each message she sent.

  “Hi, Anne Marie.”

  “Alex, we saved you some homemade pizza.” Mrs. LaViollette was clearing the table in the dining room, busily moving around my mother. Emma hadn’t adjusted to being poor yet, which me
ant I did the majority of the cooking and cleaning. Thankfully, Mrs. LaViollette helped out from time to time.

  “Thanks, Mrs. LaViollette. Mom, how are you doing?”

  Emma glanced up from her cup of coffee. She gave me a weak smile, but then dropped her gaze to the table.

  She was still wearing pajamas. Her makeup-less face looked ten years older than it should have. Worry lines were prominent near her eyes and mouth and her hair wasn’t combed yet.

  Mrs. LaViollette nodded towards my mother. “You know, they are showing old movies down at the theater on Main Street. It’s only for a limited time and there’s a seven o’clock showing of Casablanca. Don’t you think it would be nice if your mother and I went?”

  “That’s a fantastic idea. Fresh air will be good for…everyone.”

  “Great, I’ll finish up in here and then we’ll go,” Mrs. LaViollette said. “Anne Marie, are you ready to leave?”

  The back door in the kitchen flew open. Peter waltzed into the dining room wearing a navy blue winter coat and a knit hat pulled down over his ears.

  “I took the trash out, but don’t go back there. I still need to salt the sidewalk that runs to the driveway.” Peter pulled off his hat and glanced in my direction. “Hey, you’re back!”

  Peter sidestepped his mother and kissed me quickly on the lips. Scooby growled, so I placed the squirming dog on the ground.

  “Did you finish up in Salem?” Peter took off his coat, revealing a gray sweater and dark jeans.

  “Almost. Another day or so and it should all be cleared out.”

  “Was Vanessa there?” Emma looked up from the table. Her light green eyes were dull and cloudy, but her lips pursed together when she said her sister’s name.

  “Yes. She was packing up some of grandma’s things. Are you sure there isn’t anything you want me to set aside for you?”

  “I don’t want anything from there.” Emma stood up. “Where is Vanessa now?”

  “I’m guessing her hotel room in Salem. Why? Do you want to talk to her?”

  Emma and Vanessa hadn’t said more than two words to each other since my aunt’s arrival in Massachusetts to close Grandma Claudia’s estate. They hugged briefly at the funeral, but that was it.

  “No, of course I don’t want to see her. How long is she staying? Don’t you think she should go back to New Orleans?” Emma walked down the hallway to her bedroom without waiting for a response.

  “Okay, then,” I said.

  “Vanessa might be a sore subject,” Peter said, as we watched my mother disappear into her bedroom.

  “You think?”

  “Why don’t they like each other again?”

  I shrugged. “Jealousy? I don’t know. Vanessa was my grandmother’s favorite. I think their closeness bothered Emma.”

  “It’s too bad they can’t work out their differences.”

  “I know. In the meanwhile, I’m caught in the middle.”

  I followed Peter to my bedroom with my reheated dinner and shut the door. I was glad Mrs. LaViollette was taking Emma out for the night. She needed to be around people.

  Peter sprawled out on my bed and snatched the remote control. My new bedroom was small. There was only enough space for a full size bed, one dresser and a desk. The walls were bare and I hadn’t completely unpacked yet, but I liked the room. It felt like home.

  I slid onto the bed next to Peter, carefully balancing my plate of pizza on my knees. “I’m glad your mom is always over here. Emma needs around the clock care.”

  “Our house is only two blocks away. Besides, I think it’s good for my mom, too. She gets lonely, you know? I’m always here or at work or school and Anne Marie is now officially attached to Logan Cooper’s hip,” Peter said frowning. “Yesterday, they were sitting on the couch and as soon as she saw me, she shot across to the other end of the sofa. Tell me that doesn’t sound guilty.”

  “Ha. I’m sure it was nothing. Logan’s a good guy. They’re super paranoid because of you.” I pulled off a pepperoni. The cheese stretched for miles.

  “Hmph.”

  “If you keep acting like that, they’ll stop hanging out at your house. Then you’ll have no idea what’s going on.”

  “Do you think?”

  I handed him my pizza crust. “Give them a little breathing room. How would you feel if your mom or my mom always checked in on us?”

  Peter grunted.

  I tied my hair into a knot on the crown of my head. My glass of water was on the desk, so I leaned over to grab it.

  “It’s getting bigger.” Peter gently touched the birthmark on the back of my neck.

  “It’s only been a few weeks. Can you really tell?”

  “I can tell because I see it all the time. But I don’t think the casual observer would be able to notice the difference. It’s just a little bigger. Longer, actually. It looks less like a circle and more like….”

  “A fingerprint?” I stretched out on the bed beside him. “William called my birthmark the fingerprint of the Devil. Remember?”

  “It doesn’t look like a fingerprint.”

  “Give it ten months,” I said bitterly.

  William Van Curen, the now deceased leader of the Gamma Omicron Delta witch hunting fraternity, told me that my birthmark was a way for hunters to tell the difference between a witch and a non-witch. Obviously, he was right about that one. What I didn’t agree with was Gamma’s belief that I was evil.

  “Speaking of the Devil,” I said.

  Peter ran his hand through his light hair. “I don’t like how that sounds.”

  “Guess what I found out today?”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “I asked Vanessa about the symbol,” I said lowering my voice. Emma and Mrs. LaViollette were in the living room getting ready to leave.

  “You told her about everything?”

  “No, of course not. I lied, which is probably stupid because she knows so much more about all of this than I do. I drew the design on a sheet of paper and told her I saw it in a dream. Vanessa said it was a conjuring symbol.”

  Peter grimaced. “Do I even want to know what the symbol conjures?”

  “Probably not,” I said, smiling up at him.

  “Go ahead. Unleash it. I’m ready.”

  “Spirits.”

  Peter’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Like ghosts?”

  “I don’t know. I think. Vanessa didn’t elaborate. But she did say they were the bad kind.” I pulled myself up on one elbow. “Now the question becomes, why was Grandma Claudia conjuring a spirit - any spirit for that matter - let alone an evil one?”

  “It’s weird because it all happened during such a short period of time. You talked to your grandmother on the phone before we drove out to Salem. What time was that, like 11:00 in the morning? Right after your mom walked out.”

  “And we were in Salem by 3:00 P.M.,” I said.

  “Why would she feel the need to conjure a spirit in a span of four hours? Unless-”

  I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Unless she conjured regularly.”

  “I doubt that. Something had to be going on.” Peter pulled me next to him. “Your grandmother was a good person. And so are you, for that matter. Don’t let some lunatic’s ranting make you think otherwise.”

  “But why was she messing with that stuff? You should have seen Vanessa’s face when I drew the symbol. She completely freaked out.”

  “There has to be a reasonable explanation. Did you find anything in Grandma Claudia’s journal?”

  “Not yet.” I hopped off the bed and opened my closet. I moved all the shoes from the back corner. The loose floorboard wasn’t noticeable and the eight inches of space beneath the floor was a perfect spot for my growing collection of witchy items. I pulled my grandmother’s leather journal out of the hole.

  “I haven’t finished reading it.” I flipped through the coarse pages. “But nothing looks out of the ordinary. Lots of normal stuff – little herbal
chants she performed and updates on Emma and Vanessa and me. Nothing out of the ordinary, well, for a witch at least.”

  “Can I see it?”

  I handed the journal to Peter.

  “Your grandma really loved Vanessa, didn’t she?”

  “Vanessa was the golden child.”

  “How’s she taking Grandma Claudia’s death?”

  “She doesn’t say much,” I said. “She’s really nice, but kind of reserved, you know? I think whatever rift she has with Emma has guarded her feelings towards me. Oh, speaking of Emma.”

  “What?”

  “According to Vanessa, Emma knew about everything - that Grandma Claudia, Vanessa and Ethan were witches. Ethan would even do magic in front of her. But once he died, she didn’t want anything to do with the supernatural anymore. She made them swear they wouldn’t tell me about any of it.”

  “I can see that.” Peter twisted my emerald ring around my finger. He bought me the delicate piece of jewelry for my birthday a few months ago.

  “See what?”

  “Emma lying to you about your family’s history.”

  “You can?”

  “Sure,” Peter said. “Think about it. When Ethan died, she probably lost it. Then she meets Victor, who she assumes is an ordinary guy. Emma probably wanted a normal life for you.”

  “I guess. But why lie once the cat was out of the bag? We told her what happened in the cemetery. Remember? She freaked out and left for the hotel.”

  “Yeah, but Emma doesn’t cope with things very well. She bales.”

  “She could have given me a heads up.”

  “It’s never easy, is it?”

  “Never,” I said. “Find anything good in Grandma Claudia’s journal?”

  Peter tapped the page. “Who is Liam?”

  I leaned closer to see where he was pointing. Grandma Claudia had written the name on the margins of a few of her entries. “I saw that, too. I don’t know who he is. She doesn’t say anything about him. It’s just a name.”

  “We’re going to figure it out. There has to be a reasonable explanation of why your grandma would want to conjure a spirit.”

  “Wow. I never thought I’d hear those words coming out of your mouth. Isn’t it crazy what our lives have become? I wish everything would go back to normal.”