“Is it?” She turns to look at me, her eyes cutting deep into me. “My parents have been together for over two hundred years. The timing is a little suspicious, to say the least.”
We sit in silence on the bench. I refuse to believe this is true. I have to agree that the timeline sounds questionable, but could her parents really do such a thing? Would they really have created a life just to protect mine?
“I need to talk to my mom.”
“I know you do, but how? If you call from a pay phone, it will be traceable. They’re going to report us as missing later today. Any contact you have with her will show up on her phone records. It will put holes in their story and make it look like they have something to hide.”
“No, I know. I wasn’t thinking of calling her on the phone. I was reading through the grimoire before you woke up this morning. I found a connection spell. I think I can contact her through it, but I need your help.”
“My help? With a spell? How would I help? Since I’m not a… conjurer?”
“I need you to watch over me and to guide me with your energy.”
“Do I know how to do that?”
“I think so. Based on what I read, it doesn’t seem that hard. It’s one of the more simple spells. But there’s a few things we will need before we can do it.”
“Like what?”
“There was a piece of paper inside the grimoire with a business name and address on it—Rising Moon. I looked it up online. It’s in downtown Bangor, about thirty minutes away from here.”
“Does this address have the things you need for the spell?”
“I’m pretty sure. There was also a name written on the paper.”
She looks as if she is going to keep talking, but then she stops. “What’s the name?”
She hesitates before answering. “Eliza Carver.”
“Carver? So she’s related to you?”
“I assume she’s a relative. I’ve never met anyone else in my family, other than my parents. My mother told me she was an only child, her parents died before I was born. My father doesn’t speak to his family. Or at least that's what they've told me. They probably all died two hundred years ago.”
“Did you happen to write down directions?”
“I did.” She pulls a folded and slightly crumpled piece of paper from her jacket pocket and hands it to me.
“If Eliza Carver has answers, I say we go ask questions.”
She lunges toward me and throws her arms around me. “Thank you, Emma. I really need this.”
11. THIS IS HOW YOU DO IT
Less than forty minutes later we are searching for the storefront of Rising Moon on Main Street in Bangor, Maine. Zoë breathes heavily as she moves the Jeep slowly down the street. “There it is!” I exclaim pointing to a small shop nestled in between two larger ones off to our right.
Zoë pulls into the first available parking space we see. She puts the Jeep in park and shuts off the engine. Her nerves are obvious and understandable. She takes a deep breath and holds it for a minute before exhaling. “Are you ready to do this?” I ask her.
She answers with a nervous nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
As we approach the shop’s front door, a wave of various herbal aromas greets us. The windows of the shop are covered in sheer amethyst curtains that hang behind small window displays. Zoë opens the door and jingling bells announce our arrival. A woman’s voice calls from a location out of view. “I’ll be right with you.”
I look around the dimly lit space. One wall of the shop is made up completely of shelves holding jars that house various dried herbs. An area around the front counter holds bottles of essential oils. The rest of the shop is filled with candles of various colors and sizes, crystals in every shape and stone imaginable, scent after scent of incense, books on various witchcraft topics, trinkets, scarves and so much more than I can take in during the few seconds we have.
Our eyes dart hastily around the store, looking at everything, yet understanding nothing. Zoë nervously scans the room as she approaches the counter. I stay close by, my hand clamped tightly on the strap of the backpack. I look down quickly to make sure the pendant is tucked into my shirt. It’s not, so I quickly stuff it inside. It seems like a better