don’t know how she was deceived or manipulated, but she lost that buzzard’s rock, and the Blue Root took her. Someone meant her harm and it happened, necklace or not. And… I’ve been having a dream.”
I can’t help laughing.
Constance grips my chin with one hand. “Don’t you dare laugh at a dream,” she says. “Not after what you’ve seen. Dreams are where the dead travel. Your mother has been coming to me every night for weeks. She says that the one who harmed her wants to harm you. Your life is in danger, Alex. The necklace didn’t stop the Blue Root when they came for your mother, and it won’t stop them when they come for you.”
“If she’s been coming into your dreams for weeks, then why are you only telling me now?”
Constance bites her lip. “I was scared.”
“Of what? The Magnolias?”
“Back when your mother and I were in school together, I thought the League was exploiting the Buzzards. I did a big school paper article on hoodoo, and I told Miss Lee that I’d expose the Magnolia League’s secrets. If no one believed me, I’d keep talking until I found someone who did. I made a big scene about it—I was like someone else I know, full of big world-saving ideas.
“Then one day, a snake came up out of the drain while I was in the shower. It bit me once, and while I lay there paralyzed, it struck me in the leg again and again. There was so much tissue damage, the surgeons thought they were going to have to amputate. When I got out of the hospital, this was waiting for me.”
She hands me a worn envelope made of heavy yellow paper. I take out a card, an ivory square embossed with a navy outline of a magnolia bearing only six handwritten words:
Next time, it’ll be an alligator.
My fingers feel numb.
“I’m sorry I let them intimidate me,” she says. “Your mother was my friend. I should have watched over you more carefully.”
I throw the card back at her. “I don’t want to listen to this!”
“Alex, I know this is hard, but you need to deal with it.”
She hands me another, flimsier envelope. “It’s only five hundred dollars. It’s all I could get out of the ATM tonight. I’d mail you a check, but it’s better if you don’t tell me where you’re going. They might get it from me.”
My eyes fill up with tears. I haven’t cried in a long time. Mostly, I’ve just felt numb. “I’ll pay you back,” I say, then hug her.
She stiffens. “Be careful. Go out and pretend to socialize for a bit. Then run.” She turns to the door.
“Constance, wait,” I say. “Who conjured the Blue Root?”
“The Buzzards,” she says, not turning around.
“They don’t conjure for free,” I say. “Who asked them to conjure the Blue Root?”
One of her hands is on the doorknob. She lowers her head as if she’s suddenly very tired. This is how I’ll always remember her—the way she looked right before she told me.
“Your grandmother,” she says. And then she opens the door and is gone.
I sit, trying to take in everything that Constance has told me, but my mind just keeps replaying the last thing she said.
Your grandmother. Your grandmother. Your grandmother.
I walk out into the Pretty Room and, like a bad joke, my grandmother is standing there waiting for me.
“Magnolias!” she trills from the doorway. “It’s time!” She looks at us, as if counting her chicks. “Alex, Hayes, Madison. Carson, Mary Michael, and…” She pauses for a minute. “And that other one. It’s time to meet your guests, girls.”
Madison and Hayes are full of energy.
“I can’t believe Dex is wearing that thing,” Madison moans. “Do you think he wants to embarrass me to death?”
“At least it’s vintage.” Hayes giggles and then turns to me. “What did Constance want?”
“Nothing. Just apologizing for being such a pain all year.”
“I’m surprised it didn’t take her longer, then,” Madison says.
“Come on,” Hayes says. “Society awaits.”
In a way, all this fake formality helps. Once the Christmas Ball commences, it keeps rolling from one silly tradition to another with no time in between. First there’s the receiving line, where all six of us young Magnolias stand with our families and get introduced to every important person in Savannah, from the mayor to the head of the historical society.
“This is my daughter, Madison Telfair.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
Smile, handshake, curtsy.
Then we strip off our white gloves (made grimy by all the handshaking), take