They were in the circle again, Penelope and Karen facing one another across the altar, Bobby outside. There was tension between mother and son, but Karen had been unable to get to the root of it. Then again, as the day approached when the spell would be cast, Karen felt pretty damn tense herself, so it was understandable.
“It’s time,” Penelope said. “There is a crucial ingredient needed for the spell to work, and you must locate it.”
“You don’t know where it is?” Karen asked with a frown.
“I know where to search, and I will help you retrieve it, but I do not have the power to find it. You do.”
“You’ve completely lost me. What is this ingredient?”
“I need the skull of a seer.”
Whatever Karen had been expecting, that wasn’t it. “What?”
“A seer. Someone who can divine the future or delve into the past.”
“I know what a seer is, like a psychic.”
Penelope shook her head. “Wipe from your mind those charlatans you see reading palms and tarot cards at carnivals or the obvious fakes that prostitute themselves on TV talk shows. I’m talking people—usually women, though I’m not sure why—with serious power. Rarely do they embrace their power, for I understand it can seem more like a curse than a gift, and they typically try to keep it quiet, to bury it.”
“And you need a seer’s skull for the spell?”
“We need it. It will be ground to a fine powder and mixed into a potion.”
“And how exactly do you expect me to find this?”
“An individual with a great ability leaves a residue. It will be something someone like you can feel, even after they’ve moved on. I’ve tried it with little success. I do not have enough natural power in me. You, on the other hand….”
“I could be like a metal detector?”
“Something like that. You simply need to wander a cemetery, preferably a large one since that will increase the likelihood of finding what you’re after, and when you feel it, you’ll know. Just as you knew Pete had departed his body when you felt it. Trust your instincts.”
“And once I’ve located the grave of a seer, then what?”
“We’ll dig up the grave and retrieve the skull.”
Karen couldn’t suppress a bark of a laugh. “Grave robbing? Could this get any more ghoulish?”
“I agree, but we need the skull.”
“And what if we get caught? How are we going to explain that to the police? ‘Oh, sorry officer, but this woman could see the future so I need to grind up her skull so I can bring my friend back from the dead.’”
“That’s why we’re going to be extra cautious not to get caught. The secret is picking the right cemetery. Obviously we wouldn’t be able to use Springwood because after what happened to Derek the police regularly patrol there. Plus it’s downtown, with way too much activity and traffic. However, I believe I know of one that would be perfect.”
When Penelope paused, Karen knew she was being baited, but she still had to ask. “Where?”
“Fredrick Memorial Gardens in Gaffney, just north of us. It’s large but also isolated, outside the city limits. It’s ungated. I’ve spent some time scoping it out, and there seem to be no nightly patrols. It’s also deep, so if we can find what we need far enough from the road, no one will ever know we’re there.”
“And what if I can’t locate a seer there, or what if I do and she’s buried next to the road?”
“Then we’ll search elsewhere. But we need to start soon so we can ensure we have what we need in time.”
Karen took a deep breath, glanced at Bobby, then back to his mother. “Fine, tomorrow is Saturday and I’m all caught up on my schoolwork so we can go then.”
Penelope nodded. “We’ll start early, and if we get lucky and find what we’re looking for, we can go back sometime after midnight to get what we need.”
* * *
They weren’t alone in the cemetery Saturday morning. Several people were visiting graves, with more just wandering, using the cemetery as a place to walk. Which was good—it made them seem less suspicious.
They decided the smartest thing to do was to split up since they had so much ground to cover. Penelope took the west end of the cemetery, Karen and Bobby the east. Karen didn’t ask Bobby to come with her; he just fell in step beside her, and that thrilled her. Plus she was happy to be with Bobby, away from his mother, so they could talk.
“Is everything okay?” Karen asked as they walked among the tombstones, Karen opening up her senses for any traces of the residue Penelope had described.
“Everything’s fine,” Bobby said, but for a ghost he was a terrible bluffer.
“Really, because you and your mom just seem…I don’t know, strained.”
Bobby shrugged. “I guess being dead doesn’t mean you stop having arguments with your mother.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
He seemed to consider for a moment. “It’s just…she clings to me so hard. She’s been clinging to me ever since…no, it was before the accident. She was always overprotective, never wanted to let me out of her sight. After I died, oddly it became worse. Maybe because she felt she wasn’t protective enough, didn’t keep me safe, so I’ve become her obsession. Sometimes I just wish she’d let me go.”
Karen paused, turning to him with a frown. “Let you go?”
“If the spell works, and I’m alive again, I cringe to think how she’ll be with me. I’ll be in Pete’s body, which after the coma is sure to have plenty of problems. My mother will be my nursemaid. She’ll probably never let me out of the house. I just want to be free.”
“You’ll have me,” Karen said, not daring to meet his gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Bobby smiled at her, that bright smile that lit up his whole face, but she sensed nothing but sadness from him. “You’ll do anything to help me, won’t you?”
“Absolutely,” she said without hesitation.
“Good to know. Because if this doesn’t work, I want you to let me go too.”
“What?”
“If this spell doesn’t work, I don’t want to be stuck here as a ghost forever. I want you to promise that you’ll find a way to release me. From this existence, this mortal plane or whatever you’d call it.”
“But Bobby, you can’t be serious?”
“This isn’t a life,” he said, pleading. “I don’t eat, I don’t sleep, I can’t even read a book because I can’t turn the pages. I’m just always here, here but not here, and despite being with my mother, it’s lonely.”
“But I’m your friend now.”
“Yes, and I care for you. But what kind of relationship could we have, me being dead and all? Even if we could make it work, eventually you’ll grow old and die, and then I’ll be alone again.”
“Or maybe we’ll be together.”
Bobby laughed with no humor. “I already told you, I can’t see other spirits. Maybe you’ll go off to wherever Pete went, or maybe you’ll still be here, but we won’t be able to see each other. Whatever the case, I want you to promise me that you won’t let me stay like this forever. Please!”
“Bobby, I can’t—”
“Please! If you love me, you won’t let me linger on like this. If the spell doesn’t work, promise you’ll find a way to set me free.”
“I…I promise.”
* * *
Karen looked at the closest tombstone. She’d been walking for almost an hour and still hadn’t found exactly what she’d been looking for.
For that matter, she wasn’t sure she even knew for herself what she was seeking. The one she was looking at now had a woman’s name followed by:
Born July 4, 1960, Died December 10, 1999
Beloved Mother and Artist
She Brought Life to Those Close to Her
A gust of wind blew a long strand of her hair so it covered her view. She pushed it back behind her ear.
“Is that the one?”
The voice behind her was gentle but insistent.
“Are you getting tired of looking?”
Karen smiled as she turned to face Bobby. He stood a respectful two feet behind her, as if he was trying to give her the privacy while still being there if she needed emotional support.
Not bloody likely, she thought.
“Sorry, I didn’t intend to sound impatient,” he said. “Take all the time you want. Time is the one thing both of us have lots of.”
Karen nodded.
“I just need to find the right one.”
Bobby smiled. “I know. Really, it’s okay.”
“I’m not sure anything will be okay ever again.”
Bobby didn’t answer. What could he say to that?
Karen was determined not to drop a single tear. She tried to detach herself and concentrate on Bobby—dark brown eyes, pitch curly black hair, dimples she knew would appear when he smiled.
She exhaled and turned to the headstone. “I wonder what kind of art she practiced.”
“Do you want to check? You can Google it on your iPhone. Shouldn’t be hard to find if she really accomplished anything.”
Karen shook her head. “In a way I’d rather imagine my own truth. I think she assembled collages from nature, picking up stray oak and maple leaves wherever she went and then spending hours rearranging them to tell a story.”
She knelt and touched the granite stone, feeling the etchings of some of the letters.
“This isn’t the one,” she finally said.
Bobby joined her as she walked past a few more tombstones. None of them interested her. Only a few had called to her so far.
The sun was setting, casting a long shadow through the graveyard. Karen knew Bobby wanted her to find the damned stone so they could leave, but it wasn’t that easy. It had to be the right one.
If she couldn’t find it, she’d come back tomorrow, and the day after that.
“Did you know there’s two thousand people buried here?” asked Bobby.
She ignored him. A cool breeze blew, and she felt goose bumps rise on her arms. All of a sudden she moved to her right and fell to her knees in front of an old weathered stone.
“This is the one,” she said. “I found her.”
“Are you sure?” Bobby asked. “What makes this one any different than the others?”
“It’s just different. Your mother was right, that I’d know it when I felt it. And I’m feeling it now. Go get her.”
And with that, Bobby was gone. Karen waited, kneeling by the grave, feeling power buffeting her like a wind. The tombstone identified the deceased as Rebecca Louise Yomans, died only five years ago at the age of 27. Although Karen couldn’t possibly know, she got a flash of something that told her Rebecca had killed herself. Perhaps the power—a curse, as Penelope had said many who had the ability thought of it—had been too much for her.
She didn’t move as she heard footsteps approaching from behind, and then Penelope was kneeling next to her.
“This is it,” Karen said. “I’m certain of it.”
“I believe you,” Penelope said. “Even I can feel something. This must have been a powerful woman.”
“Very powerful.”
Penelope scanned their surroundings. “This is perfect, better than I could have imagined. We’re near the back end of the cemetery, far from the road. We’ll come back tonight and get what we need. You should rest. It’s going to be a long, strenuous night.”
Karen looked over at the librarian. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be ready.”