They sat that way in their gothic garden breathing in the the fresh herbs and flowers for a while. Even in this softness there was a feminine edge. Hurting in a garden that is bringing about new life was a kind of sharp worship.
"I don't feel him anymore," Eloise said thoughtfully.
"Taylor?"
His name spoken into the fog jarred the broken pieces of her but she pushed back tears. "No," she got out.
"Oh, him. You haven't seen him in a while?"
"That, and I just, I would get these small whiffs of him, like a memory come to life. And I haven't in a couple of days," she tried to explain. She didn't know if she should put her hopes into spoken words yet, that he was gone, left town. Maybe he realized she'd moved on. Maybe their protection spell had chased him out of town.
Then the jars of moonlight shivered and shook until they exploded, the thick glass flying, pulling gasps and awed looks from both women.
Eloise cursed looking down to see a long gash along her shin where crimson was now dripping down her leg.
Ursula was kneeling in front of her her and had the tea towel wrapped around it and tied quickly.
"What was that?" she asked and both women turned to watch the moonlight that had escaped four jars lift and pull together to form a ball of milky light the size of a bowling ball as it hovered in the fog then started moving.
Both women were up and following it through the garden, as a vine of ivy stretched itself up to wrap around Ursula's upper arm pulling her to a stop.
"Maybe we shouldn't follow it," she said pulling Eloise to a stop ahead of her.
Eloise took in the ivy sliding its green vine around Ursula's arm and that smell of too-hot gardenias and treated pools hit her. A feeling of heaviness sat in her chest. And there was something about experiencing fresh heartbreak that could make a person throw too much caution to the wind.
"You stay here. I'm going to see what is going on. Something isn't right."
"Right, so we shouldn't go chasing it," she urged.
"Ursula, our names are being held in the lowest regard because of things we are not doing. Everything has felt off, smelled off. And it started when I got here. That is not a coincidence." Ursula's face fell into a softness at Eloise's fears. "We need this to end. Please, don't ask me to sit back while you and this house and our friends are attacked."
Ursula looked around, thinking, her struggle palpable and it smelled like thick vanilla when it hit Eloise. Finally, she gently unwrapped the ivy from her arm letting it fall. "You always have to be the crazy hero," she shook her head and joined Eloise, hooking her arm through hers. "If we die, I will haunt you."
She smiled and they started walking following where the ball of moonlight had gone. "If we die and become ghosts, do you think we could haunt all of Salem?"
"Hell yes. Who would you haunt first?"
"Carol Weatherby. I'd autocorrect the end of all of her articles after she sends them to print with a paragraph talking about how wonderful, smart and beautiful we were and how wrong she was about us."
Ursula threw her head back and laughed. "Okay, I would haunt our friends, but like a sweet haunting. Just look out for them."
"You're so nice. Even in ghostly death. I love that about you," she said.
The light led them along the path they had taken so many times and before they knew it they were in the graveyard where the fog cut through the middle of each grave. Their names, each girl who lost their life, were illegible and the dark red snapdragons were dotting the acre of land surrounding them.
"What do you think the chances of us dying are?" Ursula whispered as Casper leaned his tall body against her legs, his ears pricked in caution.
"I mean, they've got to be around eighteen percent."
Ursula nodded with a pursed mouth. "Not as bad as I thought."
"I love this graveyard," a voice carried over the foggy earth and pulled their attention to a woman walking out from a cover of trees to run her pale hand over the top of a gravestone. But not just a woman, the woman who had appeared in their dreams. She was wearing a long, white dress and her short brown hair was in waves to her chin showing off petite features on her pretty face. "I have missed it. Isn't it neat what centuries of buried magic can do when you call upon it?" she asked wistfully. "Like, hex a flock of birds to torment a nosy journalist." She looked at them with a smile that wasn't kind. "You're welcome, by the way."
"Oh, yeah. Thanks for making us the town pariahs. I'm working on the gift basket," Eloise said.
The woman's smile grew and her white teeth flashed. "You are funny. I've caught snippets of you over the last few months as I've waited. Though, terrible taste in men, don't you think, sea witch?" She turned her eyes to Ursula who was glaring at her. "I mean, one who tried to murder her because she revealed that he was a philanderer to his wife," she leaned over, her eyes going back to Eloise and held up a hand to her mouth as if telling a secret and said, "who was kind of crazy, am I right? No wonder he cheated on her with you. You're much prettier, and funny."
Eloise's body tensed. Ursula squeezed her arm which was still hooked through hers tightly.
