Cursed be the Wicked (25 page)

“Cooper?” Finn says, softer this time. She wraps her hands around my arms and shakes to pull me out of the trance I’m in.

I look down at her. “I swear to God I saw her, Finn,” I insist. I want to laugh for thinking it, much less saying it. I also want to scream. “Hell, I know it’s fucking crazy, but I saw her.”

“Who?” she asks. When I speak, this time I don’t explain it all away, I don’t try to reason with my mind. I just put it out there in hopes Finn doesn’t turn me in to the nearest mental institution.

“My mother.”

Chapter 15

Séance

Over the next few days, I force myself to refocus.

When I say refocus, of course, I mean that I bury myself in the article I was sent to Salem for in the first place.

Finn was able to drive me back to the B&B after my mishap with drinking a little too much the night of the Vampire Ball. I wanted her to stay. I
really
wanted her to stay, but I didn’t ask her to and she didn’t offer. I knew she needed to get home and check on Geneva.

I’ve been locked in my room, writing, since the following morning.

I take breaks when my body reminds me I’m not a robot. I leave the room for junk food and soda runs alone and have my
Do Not Disturb
sign on the door. There have been a few knocks but I don’t answer. I don’t like to break my groove when I’m writing. I might also feel like a complete dumbass for telling Finn I saw my dead mother staring at me from roughly ten feet away at the ball the other night.

Who does that?

A sigh escapes me when I think of how ridiculous I must have looked. Cooper Shaw, believer in nothing supernatural, nothing paranormal, following a damn ghost.

Now that I have some virtual distance from the events of the past couple of weeks, I tell myself it’s coming back here. It’s meeting Finn, and Jack Diggs... seeing Liz again... and Danny Moss. Finding my mother’s journals and letting what she wrote get inside my head. Of
course,
it would all get to me eventually.

I should feel pretty great right about now. I’ve got a good draft going on top of what I already sent in. Bill is going to love it. The readers are going to eat it up. The article will no doubt be the hit of the summer. I might even get a raise out of it.

So, if all these things are true, why am I sitting here staring blankly at the copy in front of me like there’s so much more to say?
And to learn.

I think about Mom’s journals and how much more there is to know about her. A thought crosses my mind, about all those words Finn has found through her code and I Google the word I wrote down from one of the passages I read last week.

Oblivisci.

Finn was right. It’s Latin. It means to forget.

This is a prime example of where my grievance stems from. Did
she
want to forget? Or did she want someone
else
to forget? If it was someone else, who? And why? Hell if it was her, why?

I make a mental short list of people she might have been referring to, assuming she wasn’t writing this spell for herself.

Liz, Dad, Jack, me.

I add one more.
Geneva.
The thought of Finn’s grandmother having memory problems because someone wished it upon her makes me rage inside. I can’t imagine Mom doing something like that now, especially to someone who considered her a friend, but you never know.

I
never know. In fact, it seems I don’t know much of anything lately, including what my mom was and was not capable of.

I look at the list and add my mother’s name underneath the rest.

Crazy. Maggie. Shaw.

I stare at it. I’m not sure when she stopped seeming so crazy to me, but the name doesn’t seem fitting anymore.

I cross out the word
crazy,
over and over and over again. I scratch through it so much I tear the paper. I smile because now my page greatly resembles the pages within Mom’s journals.

Maybe I’m beginning to understand her thinking after all. A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts and I wait for whoever it is to go away. Another knock sounds. Louder this time. Then another, faster. The person on the other side of the door is clearly growing impatient.

They resort to pounding with their fist but eventually they give up. Just when I think they’re going to go away, I hear her voice on the other side and know I’m defeated.

“You can’t hide away in there for the rest of your trip, Coop.”

I stare at the door.

Yes I can.

She knocks louder. No, she’s kicking the door now. “I know you’re in there. Stop trying to ignore me.”

I lean back in my chair. I stare up at the ceiling and smile. I can’t lie. I’ve missed her. So I push myself up and walk over to the damn door. When I open it, Finn’s standing there with her fist ready for another round of knocking and a determined look on her face.

I lean up against the jamb and grin at her.

“I don’t know what you’re smiling at,” she says. It’s difficult for me
not to
think about her sleeping next to me the other night. The warmth of her body, the smell of her shampoo. The touch of her fingers against my skin.

She narrows her eyes. “You need to get out.”

I laugh.

She sniffs. “And shower.”

“Only if you join me.” I try to be funny, but it’s not. Neither one of us is laughing.

“Sorry that was a bad joke.”

“I’ve got work to do. Be downstairs in a half hour, or I’m coming back up to drag you outta here.”

I’m tempted to push her buttons, just to have something fun to do but Finn’s look is all business so I nod and she struts off, leaving me to get myself together.

I could easily disregard her instructions. I’m not above it, hell I’ve blown off Bill once or twice in my lifetime. There’s this thing Finn has, though. Something that neutralizes that deep seeded need I have to do my own thing and say screw everybody else.

I get a shower and then look over and save what I’ve put together on Salem so far. I rip out the piece of paper from my notebook that has the list I wrote and the definition of Mom’s “spell”. I head downstairs to meet up with Finn, trying not to think about the fact that she’s most likely dabbled in spells herself.

She’s patiently waiting for me by the front desk. When she sees me, I can almost swear I see a hint of relief in her eyes, like she wasn’t all too sure I’d show up. I avoid the eyes of staff members and guests that I know are on me as I walk towards Finn. They know who I am by now but it doesn’t matter. None of that matters anymore. The only thing I care about at this moment is Finn.

“Where are we off to today?” I ask her. “Maggie’s?”

She shakes her head at me.

“No?”

“I think we need to feed you before we do anything.”

I eye the dining room but she locks her arm around mine and starts ushering me out the front door before I can say anything.

“And maybe get you some fresh air.”

As we step outside, the air is fresh all right. And still colder than I appreciate. There are definitely some things I’m missing about Florida right about now.

As we get into the rental car and I start her up to get some heat cranking, I rub my hands together and side eye Finn.

“How’s Geneva? She seemed a little off the other night before she left.”

Finn breathes out. “She seems fine, just tired,” she says, then quickly changes the subject. “Let’s go to the fair and get you some local treats.”

“The fair it is.”

Not my first choice but by now, I know better than to challenge the woman sitting next to me.

We arrive and the streets are already packed. Vendor tents and food trucks line the streets, kids run and play while parents shop and socialize. Most everyone here is dressed normally today, though. Only the tarot readers and mediums are dressed in ornate garb.

Finn gives me the food options available to us. I notice for the first time in days that I’m famished.

Junk food just does not cut it sometimes.

“I think I’m going with the gyro,” I tell her and she nods approvingly.

“Good choice.”

We place an order and because it’s not the most popular food truck, we get our food pretty quickly. We find a table to sit at and as I dive in to the juicy goodness before me, Finn fills the silence.

“Are you getting anywhere with your article?”

I swallow a bite down and cringe as a few kids squeal with laughter when they run by.

“Almost done, actually.”

“Are you happy with it?” she asks and I nod.

“I bet Salem gets a lot of new business when it runs,” she adds.

“Like they need it,” I mumble then take another bit of my food. I’m not sure why I’m keeping my answers so curt. I suspect Finn doesn’t mind too much though. I can’t imagine we’re here for idle chitchat.

I chew down the last of my gyro and gulp down the water I ordered, ready to go, when Finn eyes my plate with a short laugh.

“Want the rest of mine?”

“What are we here for, Finn?” I ask her, taking our trash and throwing it into the receptacle nearby.

She stands up and offers me her hand.

“Let’s walk.”

I let her pull me up and I very easily slide an arm around her. I let my hand dangle off her shoulder as we make our way through the rest of the fair.

Then I wait.

I watch her eyes scan the crowd out in front of us like she’s looking for something. Or someone. Her lips twist up like she’s thinking, then she finally admits it to me.

“I wanted you to meet someone.”

Bingo.

“Really. Who?”

We stop in front of a booth that has the colored drapes and shiny signs that I remember from my childhood and I’m backing away before Finn can start to explain.

“I don’t think so, Finn.”

“I really think you need to see this woman, Coop.”

“I don’t need a damn psychic, okay?” I tell her defensively. “Just because I think I saw someone it’s completely impossible for me to have seen, doesn’t mean I’m into getting my damn palm read and shit-”

“No, Coop, you don’t understand,” she says, just as a young woman comes out into the light from inside her tent.

And I’m stunned. It’s
her
. The woman from the ball. The one I followed outside like a maniac.

I’m also a little more than peeved.

“You.”

Her hair is lighter and she has a ton of makeup on now, but I can still see who she is behind it all. She looks from me to Finn with questioning eyes, probably wondering whether or not this meeting was a good idea.

Me too.

I start to leave. Finn grabs a hold of my arm gently. “Coop. This is Trina Sinns. I found her here yesterday, she’s a-”

“Psychic, yeah, I’m getting that, Finn. The question is why do I care?”

She holds onto my arm so I can’t go anywhere without dragging her behind me and says to the girl, “Tell him what you told me.”

Trina swallows and looks to me like she’s searching for a way out of this conversation. I relax a little, curious now, and I urge her to tell me whatever it is Finn’s talking about.

“What?”

She tries to smile. “Come inside, won’t you both?”

“I think I like it better out here.”

“Please,” she begs, looking around. “I’d rather not attract any negative attention. It’s still early in the day.”

“It’s four in the afternoon,” I inform her as she disappears behind her drapes.

I give Finn the evil eye but follow her inside where the creepy factor is ten-fold what it is outside. It’s so dark you wouldn’t know it’s daylight out right now and the music playing sets a tone that gives me goosebumps, despite knowing how people like Trina work.

I rub at my eyes. I’m too tired to deal with this.

Regardless, we sit and Trina starts to explain herself.

“It
was
me you saw inside the ball the other night,” she tells me in a low voice. Of all the things she could have said, that was not what I expected.

“What?”

She nods. “I wanted you to see me, I just didn’t expect you to chase me outside.”

I look to Finn for some kind of answer but she’s not giving me anything yet. So I turn back to Trina.

“Why in hell would you do that?”

“A friend of yours paid me a couple of twenties. Gave me the wig to put on, too, then said you’d think it was funny. I didn’t realize until yesterday when this young woman confronted me about it, who you are and who you thought I was.”

I don’t know what I’m feeling more right now, relieved, or surprisingly enough, disappointed.

Mostly confused, I guess.

Finn catches on pretty quickly.

“I just thought either way, you’d want to know,” she admits. I nod. She’s right, if I’m being honest. I don’t need to ask who paid this girl off. It’s clear Danny still hasn’t learned his lesson.

“Yeah, no, I get it.” I tell her. When I get up to leave again, she stands, making an attempt to stop me.

“I feel awful, let me make it up to you. How about a free reading?”

I laugh. “Um, no.”

“Please?” she says, then reaches out and takes my hand.

I go to snatch it back but her grip is like a vice. I’m about to tell her to fuck off when I notice the glazed-over look she gets in her eyes and I stop, slightly freaked out.

“She knows,” she says with this creepy monotone type voice.

“What?”

Finn seems just as put off as I am over the whole thing.

She shrugs.

“She’s always known,” Trina reiterates.