Spells A Bayou Magic Novel - Kristen Proby Page 0,26

shake my head, even though Lucien can’t see me. No, I need to be able to see what’s here to navigate it. I’m being careful.

I can feel his concern and his protectiveness. I can also feel his love, and that both excites and scares me.

Both things to think about later when I’m not being attacked by the dead.

Daphne’s careful not to touch anything as we make our way through the house. Everything in here is psychological torture for her, so I take her hand in mine and cast a quick spell of extra protection for her. She offers me a small smile.

“I love you,” I whisper to her.

“I love you, too.”

“Are these stairs passable?” Mama asks, eyeing the former grand staircase that leads to the upper floors. “I don’t know if we should trust them.”

“One at a time, and no one steps on the same stair. We go single file,” Brielle says. We follow her up to the second floor, thankfully without falling to our deaths.

Bonus points for us.

When we reach Mama’s bedroom, I blink in surprise. It looks completely different from how it was last year when I was here to fetch the grimoire. Last year, this place was destroyed and rotting in decay.

Today, it looks as fresh and tidy as it had when we were little kids. As if Mama were here this morning to make the bed and fluff the pillows.

“I don’t understand,” I say.

It’s an illusion, Lucien says. It’s meant to confuse you. Just keep going.

“This place is a pit,” Daphne whispers. Clearly, she and I see two very different things.

But Mama finds the table next to the bed and opens a drawer. “They’re here.” She pulls out two photo albums. “Just where I put them. My albums of you girls and my parents. This is what I was after.”

The door slams shut behind us, locking us in.

Brielle’s face turns white.

“What is it?” I ask and turn to the door, but I don’t see anything.

“We need to go now,” she replies but recoils in pain when she tries to open the door. “It’s hot.”

“You’re not going to keep us here,” I announce and hear hissing and laughter throughout the house. Suddenly, something starts to squeak in the corner.

“The rocking chair,” Daphne says, pointing to the chair, which is currently moving all by itself.

It always did that.

And it’s always moved to different places in the house, seemingly on its own.

You have to get out of there.

The door flies open and bangs violently against the wall.

“I want to take my mother’s chair,” Mama says, pointing to the rocker.

I share a look with my sisters. “That was Grandmama’s chair?”

“Yes, and I want to take it. She sat there with me all those years. She protected me. I don’t know how I know that, but I do. It’s the only thing I remember. The chair.”

“It was in your room downstairs when we came to see you last year,” Brielle says. “But, Mama, I don’t think we can take it with us. We don’t have room.”

The rocker moves faster now as if in warning.

Millicent, where are you? Come on!

“We have to go,” I say and start for the door.

“The chair,” Mama cries.

“We’ll come back for it another time,” I reply and take her hand. “Mama, we have to go. It’s not safe for us here. Let’s take the pictures and go.”

Mama’s crying softly with grief and fear as we hurry down the steps the way we came and head to the front door.

There’s wailing and crying behind us as we step outside. Both Miss Sophia and Lucien are sweating as they chant, holding hands. They both breathe a sigh of relief when they see us.

“Did you find what you came for?” Miss Sophia asks.

“Yes, but we couldn’t take my mother’s chair,” Mama says. “We’ll have to try another time. The house was too angry, too aggressive.”

Get your damn shields back up.

My eyes find Lucien’s. He narrows them on me, and I immediately do as he asks, raising my protective shields so I can’t read the spirits’ energies anymore. My whole being calms considerably.

Thank you.

You’re welcome. You’re bossy, you know that?

He smiles and gives me a wink.

You can close the connection spell, I suggest. I’m out safely.

He nods, and I feel him quietly close the door that links us. While it’s good that he can’t read my mind 24/7, a piece of me immediately misses the connection.

“Is everyone okay?” Brielle asks.

“Yeah, but we need to go,” Daphne says. “I hate this place.”

“I’ll