Conjured

  “But you just said that Ethan left. He told you he had to leave so I could live.”

  “Yeah, but then we found Ethan’s house. It was ransacked. He didn’t run away. They took him.”

  Wasn’t that was part of Jonah and Ethan’s agreement? Gamma had to make it look like a kidnapping. Maybe Ethan didn’t tell Emma about that part of the agreement?

  Emma sat back against the pillows. “We searched everywhere. I couldn’t tell anyone I’d seen him that night. Then I wondered if it was part of the plan, you know? Maybe we were supposed to believe Ethan was kidnapped. So I kept my mouth shut. But I searched everywhere, just in case someone really did kidnap him. At that point, I didn’t know what or who to believe.”

  I didn’t know what to believe either. I leaned forward, mesmerized by my mother’s story.

  “Then we received a phone call from the Hazel Cove Police Department. The detective told us they found Ethan’s body. And that was the end of my dream that he was safe and sound in some secluded village in the middle of nowhere. Mom, Nancy and I went down to the morgue to identify his body,” Emma said.

  “Nancy?”

  Emma waived a hand in dismissal. “Your Grandmother Longfellow.”

  “Oh.” It was my time to sit back. Grandma Claudia had mentioned once before that I had another grandmother. The idea was still too unreal to wrap my head around. I had to focus on my mother’s story. “The police found his body?”

  “In the woods near the clearing. He was murdered. Foul play was suspected. They didn’t have any leads and they never solved the case. The dusty old case file is probably still sitting in that stupid police station.”

  I couldn’t imagine what Emma went through that day.

  Jonah went back on his word. Of course he did, he was a member of Gamma. He made a deal with my father, took his money and then killed him.

  Emma sniffled. “I knew that whoever made the deal with Ethan double crossed him. But I didn’t say anything. What was the point? I didn’t have any details about the agreement. I didn’t even know who Ethan made the deal with. There was no sense in bringing police attention to our families. If they knew they were dealing with witches and hunters, they’d have us all committed. So Nancy identified the body and we left.”

  “That was it?”

  “Nancy buried Ethan in the historical section of the Hazel Cove Cemetery and that’s where I thought he was for the last seventeen years. Then a few weeks ago, you tell me the coffin’s empty. I don’t know what they did with his remains. This Gamma fraternity… who knows what they did to him?”

  I went to the couch to comfort my mother. She collapsed into my arms like a child.

  “I swear I didn’t know about Victor. I swear.”

  “I know.” I patted her back.

  “Victor seemed like a decent man at the time. He was willing to take care of us. I felt horrible. I was so disgusted with myself, but Ethan told me to trust him. Why would Ethan send Victor to us if he was a member of Gamma? Maybe Ethan didn’t know? Maybe they tricked him, too?”

  “Victor was part of the deal,” I said quietly. “Gamma wanted to keep an eye on me. The only way they would agree to the deal was if Victor stepped into Ethan’s role.”

  Emma sobbed louder. “After everything Ethan sacrificed for us, I wanted to give you a normal life. That’s what he wanted. No witches or magic or any of it. I was done. I wanted to pretend like none of it existed.”

  How could I be angry with Emma after everything she had endured for me? Seventeen years with Victor, all the while knowing Ethan died to protect us.

  “My mother was so angry with me for wanting to shield you. She was proud that you were a pureblooded witch.” Emma sniffled. “Your grandmother hated Victor. She could never put her finger on it, but she loathed him from the very beginning. She begged me not to marry him.”

  “She was a good judge of character,” I said softly.

  A dark cloud of depression hovered over me. I learned so much, but I still had no clue what really happened. I was no closer to finding my father’s body. Why wasn’t he in that coffin?

  I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right. Why would Gamma kill Ethan, let his family bury him and then dig up his remains?

  CHAPTER 19

  Two quick raps at the front door and keys jingling in the lock made me smile. I’d been dying for Peter to get here so I could tell him about my day. I was in the living room, sitting on the floor, using the coffee table as my desk. Papers, phonebooks and my laptop covered three-fourths of the wooden table. The remaining area was jammed packed with sparkling apple cider, three champagne glasses, chips, veggies and dip, mozzarella sticks and licorice.

  Peter stomped the snow off his boots and came inside carrying two bags of food from my favorite Chinese restaurant.

  “It’s really coming down out there,” Peter said, bolting the deadlock behind him. “Oh hey, Scooby.” Peter petted the jumping Chihuahua.

  “You brought dinner! I’m starving.”

  Peter pointed to the small pile of food on the coffee table.

  “We didn’t want to eat without you. I may have to reheat the mozzarella sticks,” I said.

  Upon the use of the word ‘we,’ Peter glanced around the living room. His eyes landed on Emma sitting in the recliner with a blanket over her lap. Her eyes were swollen from crying, but she was doing better.

  “Hi, Peter,” Emma said casually.

  Peter’s eyes widened. He looked at me for confirmation of what he’d just seen. I nodded discreetly. I didn’t want Emma to feel self conscious.

  We’d sat on the couch for hours until Emma was unable to shed anymore tears. The windfall of emotions seemed to have pulled Emma out of her stupor. Maybe she felt better now that the seventeen-year-old secret was off her chest.

  “What did you get?” I asked Peter.

  He blinked. “Oh, uh, I picked up some Lo Mein, Wonton Soup, Spring Rolls and Beef Fried Rice.”

  “Perfect. Let me clear off some space.”

  Peter pointed to my clutter of papers. “What is all that?”

  “My new project.”

  “Uh oh. I can’t wait to hear this one.”

  I removed the clutter from the coffee table. “I’ll dish up the food and then I’ll tell you about what happened today.” I pulled Peter to the couch.

  “I’ll get plates and napkins,” Emma said.

  “What in the world?” Peter asked as soon as Emma left the room.

  “I’ll explain everything. Today was the craziest day.”

  “Jeez. I’m so shocked about your mother that I didn’t even ask how it went at the church.”

  Emma returned with utensils and I dished out the Chinese food. Peter looked beyond confused, so after a few bites of Lo Mein I told him everything that happened. The Church with James. The Crypt. Victor. The Journal. Ethan and Jonah’s Agreement. My argument with Emma. Everything.

  Emma sat in the chair listening in silence. I was worried about how she’d react to re-hearing the events of the day, but when I was finished she was still coherent. The small bit of hope that I’d broken through Emma’s daze was growing.

  I cleaned the dinner mess and placed my laptop and papers back on the coffee table.

  “That brings us to this.” Peter pointed to my make-shift desk. “Your new project.”

  “Right.”

  “What channel is Dick Clark’s New Years Eve?” Emma asked.

  “I think seven,” I said to Emma. I squeezed Peter’s knee. “Okay, my new project. I’m going to find out as much as I can about Nancy Longfellow.”

  “Ethan’s mom, your other grandmother,” Peter said slowly. He poured cider into the three champagne glasses.

  “Yes. It may be a dead end, but I want to cover all of my bases. I’d like to ask her about the last time she saw my dad. Get her account of everything that happened.”

  “That doesn’t sound too dangerous,” Peter said. “You had me worried, s
eeing that you’re Tomb Raider now. Meeting your grandmother sounds like a piece of cake.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Emma said.

  “What?” Peter and I said together.

  “I don’t know what image you have in mind, Alexandria, but Nancy Longfellow is not a cute little old lady who bakes cookies,” Emma said.

  “Nancy isn’t a witch, right?” Would she be hostile to her own granddaughter?

  “She’s not a witch,” Emma said. “But she’s not a particularly nice lady either. She’s a….”

  Peter laughed. “A witch with a ‘B’?”

  Emma smiled. “Exactly.”

  “You don’t think she’ll help me?” How bad could she really be?

  “She might. You are Ethan’s daughter, there’s no denying that. It’s plain on your face,” Emma said.

  “Really?” I felt a flush of pleasure at being compared to my father. I’d never been told that I resembled anyone - other than having Grandma Claudia’s cat eyes. Emma and I looked nothing alike. And everyone kept Ethan a secret from me for so long. How would I know that I favored my father?

  Emma nodded. “You have his dark hair and his nose. You even bite your lip like he did.”

  Peter, who was sitting on the floor next to me, held my hand.

  “But,” Emma said. “You’re also a Ross. So she may not help you.”

  “Why does everyone keep saying that?” I bit off a piece of licorice. “What does everyone have against the Ross Family?”

  Emma frowned. “Our line is the most-”

  “Prestigious?” Peter wiggled his eyebrows at me.

  “Sort of,” Emma said. “And kind of notorious, too.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  Emma made a face. “If you go see your Grandmother Longfellow, don’t get your hopes up. She may not help you.”

  I leaned against Peter and he put his arm around me.

  “Did she ever want to see me?” I asked Emma.

  “I think so,” Emma said. “But after Ethan died, there was no more communication between the two families. Grandmother Claudia sent Nancy pictures of you over the years.”

  “I take it that you don’t want to go with us?” I hadn’t asked Peter if he’d go with me to visit my other grandmother, but it was kind of assumed.

  Emma shook her head. “You don’t want me there. Trust me. It won’t help.”

  “Does she live in Hazel Cove?” Peter asked.

  I gave Peter the scrap of paper with the address. “Nope. She lives in Ipswich.”

  “When are we going?” Peter asked.

  “Are you free tomorrow?”

  “I am.”

  “Then tomorrow it is,” I said.

  The television host started the countdown for the ball dropping in Times Square. Thousands of people crammed the marquee lit streets. Fifteen seconds until the New Year.

  It had to be a better year than the previous one - didn’t it?

  * * *

  Ipswich, Massachusetts isn’t far from Hazel Cove. Maybe about twenty minutes or so. It’s south on Newburyport Turnpike, then you take Linebrook Road east until you run into Ipswich Bay. Pretty simple. Because it was such a short ride, I hadn’t had the chance to figure out what I was going to say to my new grandmother.

  “I’ve only been here once,” Peter said, looking out the passenger window at the small town.

  “When we came for Chowderfest?”

  “I ate so much food that day. All those different chowders and clams and oysters.”

  I stopped at the light. “We can get lunch afterwards if you want.”

  “Definitely. We can go to that place by the Riverwalk. Ah, I can already taste the shrimp and clams.”

  “Do you want to go now? We can stop by my grandmother’s later.”

  “No, let’s go to your grandmother’s before you lose your nerve.”

  Peter knew me too well. I was getting really, really nervous. We followed the GPS directions and turned onto a quiet street.

  “That’s ominous.” I pointed to the yellow Dead End road sign.

  The houses on the street were old. Colonial built. Massive trees lined both sides of the road. Snow was piled high on the curb. The neighborhood had an un-kept feel to it and had seen better times. It wasn’t what I was expecting, especially after what I’d heard about the Longfellow’s tremendous wealth.

  Paint was peeling from the houses. Most of the windows were boarded up. The entire vibe of the street was, well, a dead end.

  “Which house is it?” Peter leaned forward.

  “Nine-oh-eight.”

  “That should be it.”

  I pulled in front of a three-story mustard colored colonial house. It had a small front yard encased by a waist high black iron fence. The property was built on a hill. The cement sidewalk ran the length of the street and t-boned with another cracked sidewalk that led to the paint chipped porch. Two large trees filled the front yard. Their bare limbs climbed beyond the second story.

  I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Do you think anyone is home?” The curtains were drawn. The driveway curved behind the house, so I couldn’t see if there was a car parked.

  “Only one way to find out, right?”

  “I guess.” I don’t know why I was so apprehensive. I’d already broken into the Gamma farmhouse and opened up a coffin containing the ex-leader of the fraternity. Meeting my new grandmother shouldn’t have had me so anxious.

  “Someone’s there.” Peter leaned over the arm rest to look out my window.

  “What? How do you know?”

  “The front window curtain moved. I bet they’re wondering why a fancy little Mercedes is parked in front of their house.”

  “Great.”

  “Lex, all she can do is tell us to go away. She’s not a witch. We can handle a mean old lady.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Wait outside your door. I don’t think the sidewalk is salted.”

  Peter climbed over the snow bank and helped me out of the car. He was right, the sidewalks weren’t salted. Every step was like sliding across an ice rink. After a few near slips, we decided to walk on the snow covered grass instead.

  I unhinged the latch on the iron fence and we walked up the hill and onto the porch. We stomped the snow from our boots and I took a quick breath. Here went nothing. I lifted my hand to knock, but froze.

  I turned, expecting to see someone at the end of the porch. No one was there.

  “What is it?” Peter whispered.

  “I feel like someone is watching us again.”

  Peter looked down the deserted street. “I don’t see anyone. It’s probably just the house. We’re not in the cheeriest of neighborhoods.”

  I gave the door two solid knocks. The side paneled window curtain moved.

  I knocked again. “Hello?”

  Nothing.

  “Hello, Mrs. Longfellow?”

  “Go away,” a high raspy voice chirped from the other side of the door.

  Peter and I glanced at each other. He shrugged.

  I knocked again. “Hello, Mrs. Longfellow? We’ve come to talk to you.”

  “Go away.”

  “Please, Mrs. Longfellow. It’s very important.”

  “Quit bothering me.”

  “If you could give us a minute. Please?”

  “Who are you?”

  Peter nodded.

  “My name is Alexandria. And this is my boyfriend, Peter. I’m your granddaughter. I’m Alexandria Longfellow.”

  Silence.

  That was it. I’d laid it all out. Showed my hand to the table. If she wouldn’t open the door for her long lost granddaughter, then she wouldn’t open it for anyone. We waited in complete silence for over a minute.

  Nothing.

  She wasn’t going to let us in. She didn’t care enough about me to speak face to face. I closed my eyes. Emma was right. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. I shouldn’t have assumed she would welcome me with op
en arms.

  Peter led me away and we descended the creaky steps. Once we reached the sidewalk, I heard deadbolts clicking from the other side of the front door. Multiple dead bolts.

  The door cracked open and a tiny old woman poked her head out. She had pure white hair pulled tightly into a twist. She wore a smoky-blue floor length dress with long sleeves and a high white collar. It was like she stepped out of another era.

  Steel gray hawk eyes scanned Peter from head to toe and then twitched over to me. Her appraisal started at my snow boots and worked its way up to my winter hat. Her thin nose scrunched in distaste. Colorless eyes returned to my face and softened, only to immediately hardened back into ice.

  “What do you want?”

  “Are you Nancy Longfellow?”

  She hesitated. “I am. What do you want?”

  “To speak with you. It’s really important.”

  Her eyes flew to Peter again. “Fine. You have five minutes. But,” she nodded at Peter, “he waits outside.”

  Peter took a step back so I could walk up the porch steps.

  “No,” I said.

  White eyebrows flew to her hairline. “Excuse me?”

  “Peter goes where I go.”

  “It’s okay, Lex. I’ll wait in the car.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  She smashed her lips into a thin straight line. “If he goes where you go, then you both will get off my property. Now.”

  “It’s about my father. It’s about Ethan.”

  “Ethan’s dead. There’s nothing you could tell me that would be of any use now.”

  “I know about the agreement he made before he died.”

  “I know you are a pureblooded witch.”

  I flinched at her tone, but I didn’t back down. This was my only chance. “And I know that you aren’t averse to witches. You married one and Ethan was one.”

  “I don’t like Rosses.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m also half Longfellow.”

  My Grandma Longfellow regarded me for a long time. Finally, she clicked her tongue. “Stubborn like your father. Come in, then. Both of you. Hurry, before you kill me from this draft.” She disappeared inside the house.

  I raised my eyebrows at Peter. Emma wasn’t lying. Grandma Longfellow was not a pleasant woman.