Beneath the Black Moon (Root Sisters) (29 page)

It
took all of her energy to reach into her pocket, but she forced herself to
move. And when she reached into her gown, the cold glass of the vial met her
fingers immediately.

Warm.
Warm up for me. Burn like you did fourteen years ago.

The
glass remained stubbornly cold as Pauline took another step forward. “Ssso,
nephew
,
can you do it? Do you have the ssssstomach?”

“Try
me.” Brent’s voice was as cold as the glass in Cam’s hand. The magic was
denying her. It slumbered on and refused to acknowledge her.

I
am your mistress. I was the child who gathered you, and now I am the woman who
calls upon you.

“Hattie’ssss
in here, you know.”

“I
know,” Brent said, and there was just the slightest catch in his voice.

If
he killed Hattie he would lose his sister-in-law, his brother and himself in
one swift second. Hattie’s death would destroy Brent’s family just as surely as
Solange’s death had destroyed Cam’s.

It
won’t happen
! Rage filled Cam, fueling her and
igniting her wrath.
If I have to rend Pauline’s spirit with my bare hands,
she won’t do to Brent what Kat did to us.
She clenched her hands so tightly
that she nearly broke the bottle, which was warm under her fingers. Warm? Cam
resisted the urge to glance down. She didn’t want to draw Pauline’s attention
to the conjure until Cam was ready to use it. But even without looking, Cam
knew that her fury had awoken the conjure.

Of
course. It was rage that wove the magic in the first place.

Brent
was still speaking to Pauline, threatening her, as Cam surreptitiously opened
the vial. The conjured seethed and whirled inside, eager to burn, to engulf and
consume.
No
, Cam told it, harnessing it with the force of all of the
resentment and anger that she ever stifled.
No burning
.
Consume the
darker spirit. Rip her essence away and destroy it. Touch no one else.

“This
is your last chance,” Brent told Pauline, his voice ice-cold.

“No,
nephew
, thisssss isssss your lasssst chance.”

At
that moment, Cam sat up. “Brent, stand back!” She shook some ash into her palm,
feeling the heat and power of it seep into her skin. For a moment, she could
hear the crackling of the flames that had destroyed Solange. The terror of it
all rose in Cam’s gut and threatened to consume her, but Cam blocked it from
her mind. She drew the raw fury of the conjure about her like a blanket, and
kept her mind free from fear or distraction. She saw and heard nothing beyond
the power that rushed through her veins as she leaned forward and blew.

The
ashes rushed forward, carried by her breath and her will. The silver flakes danced
and seemed to multiply, pulsing with power as they hurtled toward Pauline. For
a moment time seemed to freeze. Cam could see Hattie’s mouth open in a round O
of horror as Pauline watched her own demise sweep toward her. Then the moment
fractured and shattered. A great wind tore through the house, bringing darkness
as though it had blown out the sun. The force of the conjure pressed around
them until Cam couldn’t stand the pressure and she clapped her hands over her
ears, crying out in pain. Someone reached for her in the darkness, and Cam
recognized Brent’s large hands. He grabbed her, cradled her against him as the conjure
raged around them. It was so intense that Cam would likely have been blown
away, but he maintained his footing and kept her there with him. For a few
terrifying moments Cam felt as though her magic had thrown a shroud of darkness
over the entire world.

Then
the conjure dissipated and the sunlight returned. Before her eyes had
readjusted to the light, Cam could sense emptiness in the house, a great absence
of malice.

“Are
you alright?” Brent asked, readjusting his hold on her so that he could see her
face.

Cam
nodded. She didn’t quite have words for what she felt.

“What
was that?” Brent looked almost in awe of her.

“Conjure.
Black moon magic. Very old black moon magic.” Cam felt something dripping from
the corner of her mouth, and tasted it experimentally with her tongue. Blood.
She must have bitten herself sometime during the battle with Pauline.

A
moan sounded from across the room. “Hattie!” Cam said, suddenly remembering
Brent’s sister in law.

The
young woman lay spread-eagle on the shining ballroom floor, her pale arms
spread like the petals of a lily. Cam grabbed Brent’s hand, and together they
approached John’s wife.

“Hattie?”
Cam asked gently, kneeling over the woman. It occurred to her that while she
had never actually seen the woman lucid, she felt as if she knew her.

“How
do you feel?” Brent asked.

The
woman’s body was completely still, but her eyelids twitched once and then
opened.

“John?”
Hattie called blearily, her still-dilated eyes searching for her husband.
“Brent?” She asked in confusion when she recognized her brother-in-law.
“Where’s John?”

Brent
looked down at Cam and grinned. “He’s coming,” he told Hattie.

Hattie’s
dazed gaze switched to Cam. “Who are you?” She asked weakly.

Cam
smiled, uplifted by the realization that, for once, the innocent had been
spared. “A friend,” she said softly.

Hattie
nodded and glanced back to Brent. “John?” She asked again.

“He’s
on his way,” Brent promised.

“Good.”
Hattie’s eyelids fluttered shut. “I want to tell him about my dream,” she
sighed as she fell asleep.

***

When
Brent returned from helping Hattie back to her room, Cam had taken the woman’s
place on the ballroom floor.

“Are
you alright?” Brent asked anxiously.

“I’m
fine,” Cam said quietly. Her mind was still as alert and analytical as ever,
but her body had succumbed to exhaustion. She could feel every muscle in her
body relaxing as she enjoyed the feeling of the cool floor. Brent studied her
for a moment, then nodded and lay down perpendicular to her, resting his head on
her stomach.

“Brent?”
Cam called after a few minutes.

“Hm?”
Brent had taken her hand and was tracing patterns on her palm.

“I
love you right now.”

He
stilled, cradling her hand gently in his much larger palm. “Only right now?”

Cam
stared up at the ballroom ceiling, feeling her cheeks warming. “Well… probably
forever,” she admitted slowly. It was the most honest she had ever been. Every
lie she had told and every question she had dodged had been hiding this one,
elemental fact.

Brent
didn’t say anything, but his breathing changed and he took her palm and pressed
a sweet kiss to the tips of her fingers.

“So…”
he said finally, “if I love you and you love me… what’s next?” And Cam could
tell by the meaningful glint in his eye that he already had a fairly good idea.

***

As
soon as they stepped inside of the kitchen, Cam’s grandmother knew. Her nostrils
flared as she took in the conjure, a strange blend of old and new, that clung
to her granddaughter. “
What is that
?” She asked Cam.

Cam
sighed and collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table. “It’s a long story,”
she said finally. “Let’s just say that you missed the best part.”

“That
is not a sufficient explanation,” her grandmother responded immediately. “What
happened?”

By
the time Cam had finished explaining, Caro, Mary, and both of Cam’s sisters had
all assembled and taken their own seats in the kitchen.

“But
why now?” Diana asked when the story was complete. “Kat Varennes died fourteen
years ago. Why would Pauline return and seek revenge
now
?”

Grandma
shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“It
doesn’t make sense,” Helen put in. “There must be something we don’t know. Something
else must have drawn her back.”

“Or
someone.” Mary said.

 “What
about Mattie Deveraux?” Brent asked.

Caro
turned to him swiftly, pinning him with one of her deadliest stares. “I have
known Mattie for years.”

“She
has no quarrel with our family,” Cam told Brent quickly. “She has been an ally
and a friend to us. And we have helped her.”

“How?”
Brent asked, and Cam shifted uncomfortably as the gaze of each member of her
family was suddenly turned on her.

“It’s
a long story,” Cam said, “I’ll tell you later.”

In
the doorway Cam’s father’s hound lifted his head, and his long ears swayed.
Helen quickly stood and darted to the window. “Aunt Beth’s coming,” she
reported as she pushed aside the curtain and peered out into the front yard.
“It’ll look fairly peculiar, all of us being in the kitchen together.
Especially you,” she added to Brent.

“Go
out the back,” Grandma order quickly, as she picked up her sewing and leaned
back in her rocker. Caro stood to attend to the plucked chicken that waited
near the stove, and Brent held out his hand for Cam as he followed Mary, Helen
and Diana out the back door of the kitchen.

“Just
a minute,” Cam told him. She couldn’t articulate exactly why she felt uneasy,
but her instincts were rarely wrong. “I’ll be right there.”

Brent
paused, his gaze passing shrewdly from Cam to her grandmother, but then he
nodded and stepped outside to wait for her.

“Cam?”
Grandma asked, “aren’t you leaving?”

“In
a minute,” Cam said softly. She felt deeply conflicted, torn between the story
she had always believed, and the doubts that Brent had aroused the other night
when they stood in the forest together. “Grandma?”

“Yes?”
Something in Cam’s tone must have alerted her that all was not well, because
both she and Caro turned to give Cam their full attention.

“Why
did Kat Varennes kill my mother?”

There
was a pause, during which Caro continued to stare stonily at Cam, and Grandma’s
lips parted, but made no sound. “What do you mean?” Grandma asked finally.
“Cam, you know this story. It’s no secret. You’ve always known.”

“You
told me that Kat Varennes was jealous of my mother, that my mother was
beautiful and powerful and Kat wanted her dead.”

“Yes,”
Grandma agreed quickly.

“And
that’s it?” Cam asked. “That’s all? Kat Varennes was really so crazy that she
was willing to
kill
a woman for those reasons alone?”

“Well,
what other reasons might she have?” Grandma asked quickly, and now she sounded
almost angry. “Are you suggesting that your mother was somehow to blame?”

“
No
.
I am asking if there is something you haven’t told me.”

 “Like
what?” Grandma asked, exchanging a glance with Caro, who was unreadable as
ever.

“I
don’t know what.” Cam said, “That’s why I’m asking. It feels strange to ask
after believing the same story for so long, but lately when I think of it, the
whole explanation sounds… hollow, somehow. Like a simple patch over a much
deeper problem. Like the lies that we tell Aunt Beth. Simple answers to complex
questions.”

“What’s
complex?” Grandma asked. “Kat Varennes was a cruel, crazy woman.”

 “Mama
and Kat quarreled a few nights before mama died. What were they arguing over?”

“Power.”
Grandma said. “I don’t know the details.”

“You
said you had a vision of the night they argued. Did
you
see anything?”
Caro asked.

“It
was vague.” Cam said. “I felt Kat’s fury. I didn’t know what she was furious
about. But she was from New Orleans,” Cam said. “She and Pauline. And so was
mama.”

“Many
rootworkers are from New Orleans,” Grandma said sharply.

“So
they had no history together?” Cam asked. “They were the same age, and both
from wealthy families. They had no confrontations at all before they both
married plantation owners from Gaynor County?”

 “I
don’t know what you’re looking for, Cam,” her grandmother said. “I don’t know
what you want to hear.”

“Something
that makes sense!” Cam said, her voice rising. “Or at least something that
makes more sense than what you’ve told me so far.”

“What
I’ve told you so far is the truth, Cam,” Grandma insisted. She stepped toward
her granddaughter, arms outstretched. Cam was reminded of the many times as a
child that she had run crying to Grandma, and her grandmother had held her
until the tears stopped. Grandma cupped Cam’s face in her hands, lifting her
granddaughter’s chin and staring into her eyes. “We don’t lie to each other, my
beautiful granddaughter. Our strength comes from our honesty with each other,
our trust in each other. I can tell that Brent loves you dearly, and you him,
but he knows nothing of our family or our ways. Don’t let his questions lead
you astray.”

“Grandma,
this has nothing to do with Brent,” Cam said, although that wasn’t strictly
true.