Spells (Bayou Magic 2)

“That’s a good point,” I say and sit across from her. “He wasn’t always the cause of our deaths.”

“Oh,” she says in surprise. “I guess I just assumed he was. But now that I think about it, you were killed by witch hunters in Salem, not him.”

“Exactly,” I reply with a nod. “In some lifetimes, it was an illness or an accident. But I can write down the spells and weapons that didn’t work before.”

“That would help,” she replies. “I’m going to keep reading my grandmother’s grimoire. And Miss Sophia sent home a few other books for me to look at. I feel like that’s all I do. Read. And use Google translate because I don’t understand half of the languages, so that takes forever.”

“You sound defeated.”

“I’m not. I’m worried that I won’t learn enough in time because he’s escalating so quickly. I’m worried that I was too stubborn for too long and won’t have much time with you.”

“Stop that right now.” I sit next to her on the couch and pull her close. “We’re going to defeat him this time. I don’t know how I know, but I do. We still have resources to tap, and we’re moving forward. This is nowhere close to being done, Millicent. Don’t be discouraged. We’ll get there.”

She buries her face in my shoulder and takes a long, deep breath.

“Thanks. I needed that pep talk.”

“Anytime.”

“I could use a distraction from all of this,” she says and looks up at me. “I haven’t taken the time to really explore this big old house since I moved in. How about a tour?”

“Absolutely.” I take her hand and pull her off the couch. “Obviously, the kitchen and living areas are down here, along with the laundry, what used to be a music room, a library—”

“A library?” she asks. “I didn’t know about the library. Show me everything. Even the things I’ve already seen.”

I kiss her forehead and then lead her from the living room to the music room.

“It’s empty,” she says.

“A lot of the house is,” I reply. “But it can be filled however you like. This was a music room back in the day.”

“This is the perfect spot for a baby grand piano.” She goes to stand in the corner by the windows.

“Absolutely.” Yes, that’s where it was. And she played it beautifully. “Do you play?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “No lessons are available to a kid when her single mother is possessed by an evil spirit.”

“Good point.” I lead her to the library. “The last owner left all of the books in here, and they said the owner before them did the same. I think some of these were here when we were here last time.”

“Wow,” she says as she lovingly brushes her fingertips over the spines of the books in the cases. The room is two stories tall with volumes from floor to ceiling and a ladder on rails for fetching things high up. “Maybe we stashed something in here that could help us.”

“You know, you could be right,” I reply, thinking it over. “I’ll climb up later and do some digging.”

“Maybe I can rotate some of the less valuable books through the café in the reading nook for customers to read.”

“There’s plenty here,” I say. “That’s a good plan.”

She sighs and continues looking around, then nods. “Okay, what’s next?”

“Upstairs is our room, and four other empty bedrooms, all with adjoining baths.”

“Geez, Lucien, this house was ahead of its time when it was built.”

“Not all of the bedrooms had adjoining baths when it was built,” I reply as I lead her up the staircase. “Someone remodeled over the past thirty years or so and added them. It used to be six bedrooms and one bathroom upstairs.”

“Ah, so it’s been modernized.”

“Drastically. And it needed to be. A house this old needs new wiring and plumbing. I think someone once planned to turn it into a B&B but ran out of money and had to sell.”

“That makes sense,” she says as we pass our bedroom and start opening doors to the other rooms. “I love the hardwood. Is it original?”

“The downstairs is, but all of the floors up here have been replaced.”

She nods and looks into the bathroom, then a closet, before we move on to the next.

She stops before the closed door.

“What is it?” I ask.

“This was the nursery.” She looks up at me for confirmation. I nod. “Her name was Sabrina. She was born in the spring, and she had Daphne’s red hair.”

“And her mother’s brown eyes.” I kiss the top of her head. “She was lovely.”

She opens the door and steps into the empty room. White curtains hang on the windows, and someone painted the walls mint green.

“I have a really, really weird question.”

“I’m ready.”

“Lucien, do we have grandchildren out there? Great-grandchildren? Descendants?”

“That’s not a weird question,” I reply with a sigh. “And the answer is, I don’t know. I haven’t looked because what would be the point? I don’t know what happened to Sabrina after we died. I don’t know if she had children. But if she did, they could still be living.”