Page 57 of A Match Made in Coven
“Yeah?” The question came out breathy.
Just as Sarah Michelle turned her face to kiss him, a sudden chill swept through the room. The fire dimmed, and the temperature plummeted. They sprang apart, instantly alert.
The familiar ghostly figure of Mary materialized before them, her form shimmering in the firelight.
Lorcan sighed. “Ever the buzzkill, Miss Callidora.”
The ghost crossed her arms over her chest, evidently none too pleased with him. And earning him a second elbow to the ribs from Sarah Michelle. “What he meant to say is: good evening and would you please help us?” She gestured to the Ouija board. “Can you tell us who killed you?”
The ghost nodded, the sass gone from her expression. They set the board, Sarah’s fingers poised lightly on the planchette. Mary Callidora’s spectral form hovered above, her eyes fixed on the letters.
Sarah started at the letter A and moved it along the alphabet arch. When she reached the G, the ghost wailed. They restarted the process for the second letter, moving from letter to letter until they had a name: G-I-D-E-O-N.
Lorcan frowned as he consulted again the history tome on Salem’s covens. He scrolled back to the late sixteen hundreds until he found a match. “Gideon Callidora… your uncle?”
The ghost nodded.
“Was it because he didn’t want our wings to go to the Blacks?”
Another nod.
They were about to put the board away when Mary’s ghost howled. Lorcan and Sarah Michelle exchanged a startled glance.
“Do you have another message for us?” Lorcan guessed.
The ghost nodded, and once again, Sarah Michelle placed her fingers on the planchette, spelling out a new message: F-R-E-E-L-Y-S.
“Free Lys?” Sarah Michelle repeated, her eyes widening.
“Where is he trapped?” Lorcan asked.
Before the spectral figure could respond, Sarah Michelle interjected, “According to Callidora’s legends, his ghost haunts the old cemetery on the outskirts of town in the Black family lot. We’re all warned from a young age never to set foot near it or something terrible will happen. That the place has been cursed against all Callidoras.”
At her words, the ghost let out an angry wail, her form shimmering more intensely in the flickering firelight. The sound reverberated through the room, causing the hair on the back of Lorcan’s neck to stand on end. Sarah Michelle’s expression shifted from surprise to understanding.
“Is that where he’s trapped?”
Mary nodded.
Sarah Michelle was deep in thought, her detective’s mind working through her family lore. “Was it our coven that trapped him?”
Again, the spectral figure nodded, her translucent features sunken with sorrow.
“And the reason we’re forbidden to go there is because only a Callidora can free him.” Sarah Michelle connected the last dots.
Her eyes met Lorcan’s, a silent understanding that they needed to right this wrong passing between them. She turned back to the ghost. “Can you come to the cemetery to help free him?”
To Lorcan’s surprise, Mary Callidora’s ghost shook her head, her form quivering with agitation. She pointed a ghostly finger at Lorcan, making him shiver.
Lorcan sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Let me guess, and that’s because ofmyancestors?” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, the weight of generational injustices settling in his chest. “Can any of the Callidoras go, or did we curse the cemetery against the entire coven?”
Mary nodded.
Lorcan scoffed, shaking his head. “So, let me get this straight. A Callidora kills you and frames a Black, so that the two covens will never seek a union again. Then your coven, in what they thought was a rightful revenge for your murder, curses Lysander’s soul so he remains trapped in his tomb as a ghost, too, but you two can never see each other because my coven puts another revenge curse on the cemetery to keep all Callidoras out, dead or alive?”
Mary’s ghost didn’t need to respond this time. Pearly tears were streaming down her face.
“I’m sorry they did this to you,” Lorcan gritted out, his rage barely contained.
