Jude swore out loud.
“What the hell is this?” she said to Ivory. “You told me it was random but you picked me right from the start! Why?”
It’s really not such a big deal, Ivory said sullenly. I simply needed someone who had access to Moonfleet.
“Moonfleet?”
And the Phantom. I knew I’d need his help if I ever found myself in this position. André has money, resources, boats. Even if he hadn’t run into you at Etienne’s club, it was always my plan to ask for his help eventually.
“Paris has access to him too,” Jude said. “Why didn’t you write her name on the poppet?”
Because the Phantom doesn’t care about Paris! Ivory said. He cares about you, as you now know full well. Besides which, Paris wouldn’t have come to my funeral and passed beneath the charm gates.
Jude recalled how Sharkey had told her that Ivory Monette’s will had asked for the Done and Dusted Brass Band by name and how odd she’d found that at the time, given that their band was hardly the best or most prestigious in Baton Noir. Certainly not the kind of band you’d expect to play at the funeral of the cajou queen herself.
“You set me up,” Jude said, as realization dawned. “I suppose Pa was right. Something awful did happen because I went to Moonfleet.”
Something great may happen too, Ivory pointed out. I didn’t tell you that I’d chosen you specifically because I didn’t want you raising a ruckus. But look, we’re so almost there. All you have to do is summon the Thief and then we can find the devil’s wishing well.
“Oh, is that all?” Jude replied sarcastically.
Let’s just get on with it, Ivory snapped.
For a moment, Jude thought about ignoring Belle and Ivory and going to find Sofia. But what would be the point? She had the Phantom to help her with summoning the Thief. And Sharkey had already been hurt because of her. Belle had been right – there was no need to endanger Sofia too.
Still scowling, Jude walked over to her bed, lifted the pillow and picked up the photo of Daryl. She’d taken this one herself in an attempt to capture the fireflies she loved so much. Daryl had run into the shot at the last moment and showed up slightly blurred on the pier. She remembered she’d been really cross with him for ruining the scene, had shouted something about how he always spoiled everything.
“This is the only photo I have of my brother,” she said to Ivory. “Is that precious enough for you?”
Years from your life would have been better, but I suppose we might try with that, the cajou queen replied.
Jude stuffed the photo into her pocket then checked that her pa was still in his chair before she tiptoed into his room. This was the bit that hurt the most. It was one thing to give up something of her own, but to take from her pa one of the very few precious things he owned was a different story.
It’ll help him in the end, Ivory whispered. Just remember that.
As Jude rummaged in her pa’s chest of drawers, she told herself that Ivory was right. It would be worth it to take away some of his pain. That’s what this whole thing was about. She found what she was looking for, right at the back of the drawer. It was a locket on a delicate silver chain.
“My mother’s,” Jude said to Ivory. “There’s photos inside of Pa and Daryl and me.”
Will he miss it?
“He’ll be devastated. And…” she swallowed, “and if I give this away too, then it means we’ll have no photos of Daryl left. We’ll never be able to look at him again.”
Perfect, the cajou queen replied.
Jude hid her trumpet under the bed before gathering up the things she needed for the spell, including the items from her altar, and stuffing them all into her empty trumpet case. She told her pa she was going out to practise with the band for the upcoming Cajou Night celebrations. Then she took the streetcar to the Fountain District and went straight to Moonfleet Manor. She could feel her nerves all wound up tight as violin strings at the thought of seeing the Phantom again after the things he’d said to her that day. She didn’t know what to make of it, how to feel or what to think. For now, the easiest thing seemed to be to shove it all to one side and deal with it later, once things had calmed down.
Moonfleet Manor hunched, brooding in the moonlight, as Jude drew near and she could see the cajou tree spreading its dark branches against the sky. She didn’t dare approach it by herself in case it tried to throttle her, so she went up to the front door and slammed the metal knocker down on the wood.
It seemed to take an age for it to be answered and she started to wonder whether the Phantom was actually in at all. But then the door swung open and there he stood. The first thing Jude noticed were the spots of blood on his white shirt collar. Then she saw that his gloves were ripped and bloodstained at the edges.
“What happened?” she asked, staring. “Are you all right?”
The Phantom followed her gaze and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Fine,” he said. “It’s just that Violetta is … in a wild mood today. As I said earlier.”
“A ghost did that?” Jude said. Her eyes flicked to the shadowy staircase over the Phantom’s shoulder.
“Never mind about Violetta,” the Phantom said. “Did you get everything you need for the spell?”
“Everything except the cajou ivy.”
“All right. Wait a moment.”
The door closed again, leaving Jude on the porch alone. The Phantom returned a few minutes later with a new pair of gloves and some shears.
“Cajou trees are difficult at the best of times,” he said. “And ever since it became the Hanging Tree, it seems to have some kind of link with Violetta. So you’d better stay well back and allow me to do this.”
Jude followed him across the lawn and they were about twelve feet from the tree when the Phantom held up his hand and said, “That’s close enough.”
Jude stopped and watched as he went the last few steps. This was the nearest she’d ever been to the cajou tree, and even in the moonlight she could see that it was a strange thing indeed. Not only was it warped and twisted, branches growing out at strange, impossible angles that made Jude’s head ache, but there were pins, needles and nails embedded into its black trunk too. Jagged stitches of thread tied the leaves to the branches, which glimmered with buttons and were hung with strange dark feathers. Multi-coloured cajou beads dangled in bunches like berries, and the roots crawled out over the grass towards them as if they were gnarled fingers. Sticky trails of red and black wax ran down the trunk like sap. And the tree smelled of tar, blood and black magic. It was shocking to think that such a monstrous tree could have appeared overnight like that.
And then there was the cajou ivy, twisting slowly round the trunk, slithering down the branches in snake-like coils.
The moment the Phantom approached, one of the vines shot out and wrapped itself round his wrist. He took a sharp step back and in the same movement raised the shears to snip the vine. It came loose, still attached to his sleeve, and he quickly moved away from the other vines, which were already stretching towards him.
“Will this do?” he asked, turning to Jude and holding up the vine, which was perhaps two foot in length.
Perfect, Ivory breathed.
“Yes,” Jude said. “Now we’re ready to perform the spell.”
Under Ivory’s direction, she set up her altar on the lawn, then proceeded to place the items in the summoning bottle. She felt a deep cut of loss as she put the photo of Daryl in there, and then hesitated over her mother’s locket. She would never be able to look at Daryl’s mischievous freckled face again and she knew that her memory of him would grow dimmer and dimmer until she would no longer be able to see him at all and then it would almost feel like he’d never existed.
But Daryl was dead and there was nothing left to be done that could help him. Her pa, though, was very much still alive, and Jude was determined to follow this road all the way through to the end, so she forced the locket into the bottle. Ivory then directed her to write the Thief’s name backwards thirteen times on a piece of paper, which she rolled up and pushed into the bottle too.
Now wrap the ivy round the bottle, Ivory instructed.
Jude did as she said, expecting to have to fasten it with something when she got to the end, but the vine pulled from her hand and shot eagerly into the bottle, as if it could sense the magic sizzling away in there. Its stitched leaves pressed against the inside of the glass, hiding the other objects from sight and sealing up the neck.
What happens now? Jude asked Ivory, expecting her to recite a spell and that would be that.
Instead the cajou queen said, You have to bury the bottle at a crossroads.
Crossroads?
It’s the only way to summon the Thief. If it were anyone else doing the spell he’d need to take possession of someone present in order to communicate but you’ll be able to see him without that.
Jude looked up at the Phantom, who was standing a few steps away, watching her. “She says we need to go to a crossroads. Where are we supposed to find one of those?”
“We have one here, as it happens,” the Phantom replied. “At Moonfleet.”
“Where?”
The Phantom gestured over his shoulder. “In the family graveyard. One or two of the Majstros have dabbled in cajou over the years. The graveyard was specially designed to have a crossroads at its centre.”
A crossroads in a graveyard of all places! Ivory exclaimed. How perfect!
Jude packed up the altar and picked up the bottle then they made their way over to the graveyard, which was situated on the other side of the house. Iron lamp posts stood at regular intervals with electric lights illuminating the path. Like most of the cemeteries in Baton Noir, this one had its graves above ground in stone tombs and crypts. Jude noticed marble statues of various legba – such as the Gravedigger and indeed Baron Lukah himself – keeping an eye on everything. And as they walked past the ornate crypts, Jude recognized some of the names from the portrait room and couldn’t help wishing that Ivory had not shared so much of their disreputable histories with her.
They made their way past the graves to the crossroads at the centre. A small shed structure stood to one side and the Phantom reached into this for a shovel.
“Do you need to dig the hole yourself?” he asked.
Yes, Ivory said.
“I do,” Jude replied.
The Phantom handed over the shovel. “Just be careful,” he warned. “All manner of ghastly things have probably been buried at these crossroads over the years.”
It was not a cheering thought and Jude dug a small hole as quickly as she could, worried that she might drive the shovel into a skull and dig up a skeleton at any moment. Once she had a hole large enough to conceal the bottle, she pressed it inside before covering it over. When it was completely buried, Jude straightened up and brushed dirt from her palms.
Now what?
Now we wait to see whether the items you placed in the bottle will be enough to tempt the Thief, Ivory replied.
Before Ivory could reply, a voice spoke from the roof of the crypt above them.
“Well, well, well. This looks like it’s going to be interesting.”
Jude looked up and saw a lanky man sitting on the roof of Dorian Majstro’s crypt with his long legs hung over the edge, lazily drumming his ankles against the wall as he gazed at them with a sly grin already spreading across his thin face.
The legba of theft wore a shabby suit that looked as if it had seen better days. His waistcoat had been patched and mended in multiple places. His brogues were scuffed at the toes and desperately in need of a good polish and his shirt cuffs were stained with ink. Jude recalled that when he wasn’t engaged in robbery the Thief was said to be an enthusiastic writer of poison-pen letters.
He had long dark hair that hung in lank strands past his shoulders, and a thin, pale, wolfish face, with sharp cheekbones. A pair of pince-nez sat on his long nose and he pushed these up as he looked down at the items in his hands. Jude realized it was her photograph and her pa’s locket.
“A picture of a dead brother,” the Thief said. “And a pilfered locket that once belonged to your mother and has been stolen from your father.” He looked over his glasses at Jude. “You have my attention, little girl,” he said. “What would you like me to steal?”
“Is he here?” the Phantom asked, noticing that Jude’s gaze seemed fixed on the crypt.
She nodded. “I’d like you to steal a devil’s coin,” Jude said. “Belonging to a vampire named Etienne Malloy.”
The legba looked back down at the photo and locket, holding them up and testing their weight for a moment.
“Yes,” he mused. “That can be arranged.” He looked at her and said, “But you will not have it for long. Not unless you’re prepared to sweeten the pot with some years of your life thrown in.”
“How long will I have the coin without doing that?” Jude asked.
The Thief pursed his lips for a moment. Then he said, “An hour is all I can promise, I’m afraid.”
Jude was worried Ivory might start protesting that an hour wouldn’t be enough time to go back into the swamp and attempt to locate the wishing well but, to her surprise, the cajou queen said:
That will suffice.
“An hour is enough,” Jude said to the Thief.
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?” he asked. “If you were to throw in just six months, I could extend your ownership to three weeks.”
“No,” Jude said. “Thank you. An hour will do.”
The Thief shrugged his bony shoulders and slipped the photo and locket into his pocket. “Have it your own way,” he said. “So do we have a bargain?”
“Yes,” Jude replied.
“I need you to say the words.”
“I would like you to steal the coin for me.”
“It would be my special pleasure.” The Thief got to his feet. “The coin will be yours by tomorrow afternoon.”
Afternoon! Ivory exclaimed. Why does it have to be the afternoon? Ask him if he can get it now.
What does it matter? Jude asked, surprised.
But she looked up at the Thief and said, “Can’t you get it sooner?”
“Surprisingly enough I have other things to do besides running errands for you, Miss Lomax,” the Thief replied, straightening his tie. “You will have the coin tomorrow afternoon. Possibly early evening.”
Then he snapped his fingers and was gone.