many weird things were going on.
My phone buzzed again, and I startled. It was Kell.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I told you about some of the weird stuff we’ve been seeing,” Kell said. “Then I thought, maybe I should show you. So… our group is going out to take a look at a haunted house that’s giving the real estate agent fits. We’ve been there before and it was active, but apparently not like this. Do you and Teag want to come?”
“When?”
Kell chuckled. “Wow. I should use the haunted house bit to get company more often,” he joked. “Day after tomorrow? We generally go after it’s dark enough that the ghosts will move but the neighbors won’t call the cops.”
“Works for me. And I’ll let Teag know right away.”
“Great.” He paused. “I really appreciate you taking this seriously. I think there’s something going on, but it’s not anything I can explain.”
“Let’s see what we can find out,” I said, trying to sound more chipper than I felt. I was afraid there was more at work than jumpy ghosts. “See you then.”
“DON’T FORGET, I have an appointment at noon with Father Anne,” I said to Teag the next morning. Today was the day she and I were going to free poor Tad’s spirit from the hair wreath necklace.
He nodded. “I’ll stay with Maggie, in case we do get those busloads of Canadian tourists you were expecting,” he added with a grin.
Maggie had to keep her swollen ankle elevated, and she looked like she had been in a car wreck, but she insisted on coming in at least for part of the day, and had a doctor’s note to back her up. We were busier than usual, so the morning passed quickly. I sold a vintage tea set to a woman who was delighted to find one just like her grandmother’s. A brass lantern, an old seafarer’s telescope, and more vintage jewelry found new homes, which made for a profitable morning.
“Are you sure you’re okay meeting Father Anne without extra back-up?” Teag asked in a low voice when he followed me into the break room. I knew what he meant. Father Anne and I were both pretty good at watching out for ourselves, but with someone attacking Sorren’s interests, it never hurt to take extra precautions.
“That’s one reason I suggested she and I meet at noon,” I replied. “It’s a good time for working light magic, but not as good for dark magic.” Everyone thinks of midnight as the witching hour. They forget that noon has also traditionally been believed to be just as friendly for supernatural workings. Both midnight and noon are ‘liminal times’, when the veil between our realm and the next thins and magic becomes easier to work. Most creatures and people who are up to no good don’t like doing their dirty deeds in daylight. Add to that the fact that a number of supernatural creatures are allergic to direct sunlight, and I figured we would be safe.
“Be careful,” Teag admonished.
“Don’t worry,” I replied, grabbing my purse. But I knew he would.
I revved up my little blue Mini Cooper and headed out for Magnolia Cemetery. Magnolia Cemetery is a jewel. It was built on land that had once been a rice plantation, back in the 1850s. Old graves, lots of famous dead people, and beautiful huge live oaks make it a top attraction for visiting historians, tourists, and walkers.
The cemetery is just outside of town. I wanted to arrive early so that Father Anne could work her blessing exactly at noon. The supernatural can be surprisingly punctual.
A lot of Charleston’s cemeteries are all located on the same stretch of road, on or near Huguenin Avenue. Magnolia Cemetery is the biggest. The whole street is like a suburb of the dead. On the way out of town, I passed a couple more of the Ghost Bikes, forlornly chained to the fences and posts near where tragedies had occurred.
Thinking about the Ghost Bikes got me to notice a white cross marker near the corner of Huguenin Avenue and Brigade Street. There’s an overgrown corner that’s thick with brush. Poking out of the high weeds was a homemade cross with a small, sad wreath of faded silk flowers looped over the top. The name on the shrine was too faded to read. Drive along highways in a lot of the South and you’ll see similar memorials, placed by family where a loved one met a tragic end. I’ve always wondered whether the spirits