The Line

NINE


The day was hot, and only going to get hotter, so I was grateful for the air-conditioning in the limo, particularly since I was wearing black. We were on the way to Greenwich Cemetery, where Ginny would be laid to rest. Ginny had insisted that she wanted to be buried on her own, away from the rest of the family. Since we wouldn’t give her a moment’s peace in life, she’d say, she was going to be damned sure that death would allow her a little privacy. Unlike so many who died in Savannah, Ginny’s spirit had not lingered. Her essence had passed on to another plane, and I said a silent prayer that she would find happiness wherever she was.

Oliver, Iris, and Ellen were riding with the body, and Connor, Maisie, Jackson, and I were following in a second vehicle. I looked at my reflection in the limo’s window, and watched the world go by through my own image. Outside there were tourists in Hawaiian print shirts lining up to board a trolley. Inside there were black outfits and pearls and somber ties. Outside, in Forsyth Park, a few children ran ahead of their mothers and then stopped dead in their tracks at the sound of a voice I couldn’t hear. Inside, I was doing my best not to listen as Connor droned on to Jackson about this, that, and everything—none of it important. I wanted to be able to listen to my own thoughts, but Connor’s drivel lined my skull like ugly wallpaper.

Surrounded by my nearest blood, I felt entirely alone. I wished Peter could be here with me, but the site foreman had given him a very clear choice: show up for work as usual or never show up again. I offered to have Oliver pay the man a visit, but Peter seemed somewhat offended by the idea. “People like me, Mercy, like us, we don’t rely on those kinds of tricks. We come by things honestly.” I respected him for that, and even though I wished he were here to hold my hand, the way I knew—without even looking—that Jackson was holding my sister’s, I was glad he felt the way he did.

I turned away from the window and my gaze fell on Maisie. It didn’t take a mind reader to know that her mind was focused on one thing, the drawing of the lots. It was scheduled for tonight. I closed my eyes and said another silent prayer, this time for Maisie. I hoped that the power would settle itself on another. She thought she was prepared for the responsibility, but I wanted her to have her own life. A life that wasn’t anchored to the line. And in my heart, I felt a sudden conviction that my prayer would be answered, that Maisie would be spared the burden of assuming Ginny’s mantle, at least for now.

I felt the weight of Jackson’s gaze fall on me. My heart began to pound when our eyes met, and the temperature around me soared. I always thought it was a joke when people said that you hear violin music when you’re looking at your true love, but I swear I heard the rush of strings. I tried to look away, but his eyes held mine like a vise. Could that look in them be longing? I wondered if Maisie was right, and he really was torn between us. There had been that moment at the hospital after all…For a second I was lost, drowning in desire for him. The flame that I’d tried to smother was rekindled, and it burned all around me. Then I noticed that Jackson was indeed holding Maisie’s right hand in his left. A dark red shame filled me as I acknowledged that my thoughts were a betrayal of both my sister and Peter. I would not pursue my interest in Jackson, nor would I do anything to encourage him.

Guilt forced me to look away, and I returned my focus to my surroundings. The quirky, historic Savannah that I loved faded quickly into a no-man’s-land of generic strip malls and discount stores. The road to the cemetery seemed too suburban to belong to Savannah proper, and I only felt a returning sense of home as we drew near the gates of the far more famous Bonaventure Cemetery, where my own mother and grandparents were interred. You can’t reach Greenwich without passing by Bonaventure, and I promised myself that once the heat broke, I’d bike out and bring flowers for their graves, and maybe even a few for Ginny’s.

The sun had reached its apogee, so the minister took mercy on us, speeding through a prayer that we all knew would mean little if anything to Ginny and then sprinkling the first handful of earth over the coffin. I broke away from the gathering and returned to the car, praying that the driver still had the air-conditioning running.

I was within yards of the waiting limo when an elderly man approached me. His face was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

“Miss Taylor, I would appreciate you coming with me.”

Three things stopped me dead in my tracks: his calm demeanor, his gentle voice, and the terror in his eyes. My heart started beating like mad. I’d been around witches my entire life, and I instantly knew that he was being compelled, and through him, so was I. His request was no request, and I had no choice but to comply. That sure didn’t stop me from trying. I lifted a foot and told it to move backward. It carried me forward instead, bringing me one step closer to the car. I turned my head, hoping that someone from the family had followed me and would figure out what was going on, but no luck. They were probably still gathered around Ginny’s grave. The only other people in sight were a group of ghost hunters. They were shooting pictures of one of the more elaborate gravestones, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of the supernatural yet completely oblivious to what was going on right under their noses.

I tried to call out to them, but instead heard myself saying, “Thank you, I’d love a ride” loud enough for all the ghost hunters to hear. I took a few lunging steps forward, walking awkwardly enough to cause someone in their group to comment on my sobriety. Within moments, they lost all interest in me and went back to taking pictures of illuminated dust.

The driver helped me into the passenger’s seat of the car, then leaned in over me. “This ain’t permanent,” he said. He passed his hand over my eyes, and my vision instantly went black. “That is only until I get you where we going. Now you gonna sit still for me and don’t make any fuss.”

I felt my body go rigid. My adrenaline-induced sweat chilled in the car’s air-conditioning and started to trickle down my spine. He buckled me in and closed the door for me.

“I sure am sorry about all this, Miss Taylor,” he said as he took his place behind the wheel. “I’m sure you’ll understand when I say I ain’t got no more choice about this than you do. Jilo making me take you, just like she making you come.” He shifted the car into drive and turned right.

“What does Jilo want from me? Where are you taking me?” I asked, fear mixing with anger.

“She won’t let me talk to you about that, miss,” he said.

“Then tell me how I know you,” I demanded. “You look familiar.”

“Why, you don’t know me at all,” he responded. “But I believe you have met my grandson. He’s a policeman.” Pride played in his voice, overcoming the forced circumstances that brought us together.

“Detective Cook is your grandson?” I heard myself ask. Now that I knew, the resemblance was unmistakable. They shared the same warm skin and tea-colored eyes. Jilo must have felt pretty confident in herself to use Cook’s grandfather as a pawn in her game.

“That’s right, miss.”

“Can you call him? Tell him where you are taking me?”

“Oh, miss, you know Mother Jilo is cleverer than that,” he responded. “I’d love nothing better than to help you, but she got me on a very short leash. And I can’t fight against her power any more than you can.”

I followed as best I could the turns we made, sure that once or twice we must have looped back. Oddly, we never stopped. Not for a stop sign. Not for a light. I lost any hope of knowing where we were headed.

We continued driving for what seemed like hours. Then I felt the asphalt give way to loose stones beneath us, and after a while we finally slowed and stopped. He opened my door, and the car was flooded with heat and the sound of cicadas.

“Allow me,” he said, reaching in to take my hand. He helped me out of the car, and I began to listen intently for any sounds that might betray our whereabouts. I heard only the insects and the crunch of gravel beneath my feet. “We gotta walk the rest of the way from here, but it ain’t far.”

Suddenly I knew I was going to die in this place. He had taken me out to a grave, where he would kill me and leave me, and my body would decay. I wouldn’t even see it coming. Maybe in time, Connor would track down my remains with his flaccid pendulum. But it would be way too late. I’d be as dead as Ginny was.

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” I heard my disembodied voice ask.

“Good lord, sweet girl! No, I ain’t going to harm a hair on your pretty red head.” We continued on down the path, the gravel changing to sandy soil that began to filter into my shoes.

“Unless she makes you,” I responded after a few more steps.

“She can’t make me do that. I’m a bus driver. She can make me drive, ’cause that comes natural to me. I sure ain’t no killer, though. She can’t make me hurt you.”

“But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have someone that killing comes natural to waiting for me,” I said.

That he said nothing to the contrary told me he agreed that it was a possibility. We continued on in silence for a few moments longer. “But you a Taylor, my girl. Ain’t they nothin’ you can do to protect yourself?”

“Sorry. Shooting blanks,” I said, laughing in spite of myself.

“Well, you know I be praying for you. If my prayers count for anything, you will see the sun rise tomorrow,” he said and then stopped. “We here. They gonna be a few steps up now.” He guided me up onto a porch. I felt a bug strike my face and nearly jumped out of my skin. “It’s okay, girl. You be brave. Now, she say this is as far as I can take you.” I heard a screen door screech open, and he guided me over the threshold. Another set of stronger and rougher hands took charge of me, and I was swept through the entrance and into another room. The door slammed shut behind me.

“You can see again now,” a sorghum-sweet voice allowed. My vision returned instantly, and I felt my limbs return to my own control. The room, walls, and floor were all the same color, the aquamarine shade known around these parts as “haint blue,” prized for its efficacy in repelling insects and unfriendly spirits. In the center of the room sat a single chair, and on that chair sat Mother Jilo, resplendent in shades of blue and purple that could arouse envy in a morning glory. On her lap sat a three-legged cat that purred as she scratched its head. The recipe for true haint blue called for the ashes of a cat’s left back leg. I had a feeling that I knew what had happened to the feline’s missing appendage.

“Why did you bring me here?” I asked. Jilo ignored my question.

“Come closer,” she commanded.

“I told you I don’t want your spells,” I protested, even as my feet obeyed. They carried me within arm’s length of her throne. “I should have never come to you in the first place, and I don’t want anything more to do with you.” Even though my body was under Jilo’s control, my hands still had enough will of their own to clench into fists. I leaned as far back from her as her powers would allow.

She surveyed me up and down slowly then said, “So you wondering why Jilo brought you here. And I am sure you are wondering where ‘here’ even is, but I tell you these are the wrong things to be wondering. What you should be asking yourself is why your people never even taught you how to defend yo’self against being taken. Why you think that is, girl? Go on, you answer Jilo.”

“I guess they thought folk would have more sense than to mess with me.” The sound of my voice shocked me. I sounded angry…no, I sounded downright pissed. Jilo laughed, a deep and hearty sound that told me she really was amused.

“That’s okay, girl. You should be mad. But you shouldn’t be mad at Mother. You should be mad at that high and mighty family of yours. They the ones who left you defenseless. Not Jilo.” Shadows formed at the edge of the room and began to advance on me, bumping up against my legs and sniffing at me like wild dogs. My instincts told me not to move.

“Back!” Jilo screamed, and the shadows scurried away and cowered in the corner. The individual gray shadows merged together, forming a single black mass.

“What are those things?” I asked and then corrected myself. “That thing?”

“That none of your concern,” she responded. “Old Ginny in the ground now. That mean Jilo wins.” She laughed her laugh that sounded like something between amusement and a death rattle.

“Did you kill her?” I demanded.

Jilo stopped laughing and leaned in close to me. “Jilo told you the spell she workin’ for you took blood.” Her eyes widened, and she began to cackle. My knees turned to jelly at the old woman’s words. If Maisie hadn’t assured me that blood was never really used in love spells, I might have collapsed completely. She winded herself with her laughter, and it took her a few moments to catch her breath. “Maybe Jilo killed the old woman, and maybe she didn’t. What you willing to sacrifice to find out?” she asked, the cat on her lap stretching and licking its phantom limb. “I’ve seen you going around town, telling your lies for money. You charge for lies. Jilo gonna charge you for the truth.”

I was relieved that she wanted something from me. The fact that I had something to offer bettered my chances of not ending up being planted at her crossroads. “I don’t have any money. At least not now. I will after my birthday. If you let me live. Me and Detective Cook’s grandfather. You let us live, and I’ll let you have everything coming to me.”

“Girl, Jilo don’t need or want your dirty Taylor money,” she said, disgusted. “And Henry is well beyond any help you can offer him.”

“Then why do you want to hurt me?” I asked.

“Jilo got no need to hurt you. Jilo got better use for you. And that is for you to let her show you the ways. Let her teach you like Ginny oughta done.”

“And what if I don’t want that?”

“Then you ain’t as smart as Jilo gave you credit for.” She paused. “And you won’t be under her protection no more.” The shadow in the corner of the room moved a foot closer, but Jilo held up her hand to stop its progress. “I know your family,” she said. “I know they secrets, things they shouldn’t be keeping secret from you. Every time you come to Jilo, she send you away with one truth. We see how much truth you can take.”

“But why are you doing this? Why would you care if I can do magic or learn my family’s secrets?”

“?’Cause, my girl, I want to hurt them. And I want to hurt them in a way that no killin’ can. I want them to see themselves reflected in the hate shining through yo’ pretty green eyes. Once you know them the way Jilo know them, you will understand why.” Hatred carved wrinkles in her forehead and around the edges of her mouth. Her lips curled back into a hiss.

“I don’t want to hurt them. I don’t care what they’ve done,” I said.

“You say that ’cause you don’t have any idea what they done. Not just what they done to Jilo, but what they done to you. You come to me, you come to me willingly next time, and Jilo tell you what happened to your precious Ginny. Not that Jilo understand why you care what happened to her. The old one sure didn’t care about you. You decide. You come to Jilo if you want to know.

“Now to show you Jilo acting in good faith, she give you one secret for free. You go ask that fairy uncle of yours why my grandbaby walked into the river and she never come back out.” With that, Jilo snapped her fingers and the room went black. I groped along the wall, feeling for the door, and my fingers brushed over a light switch. When I flicked it on, I nearly fell back in shock. The chair was gone, and the room was no longer cyan. I was in the room of shared secrets, the linen closet on the upper floor of the house where I’d been raised. Jilo had made her point. If she could reach into our home, into the heart of my childhood, she had all the power she needed, borrowed or not.