Instinctively, I flung the staff out in front of me like Moses parting the Red Sea, a futile, gut-level gesture. And as I leveled the staff at the darkness, memories flooded through me as my gift roared to life. I could feel all the shamans and seers, who had possessed the staff generation after generation, feel their lives and memories wash over me and fill me, and their power roar through me.
I closed my left hand around the agate necklace, and Bo’s ghost appeared again, lunging at the darkness, barking loudly.
Out of my arsenal of new ‘weapons’, Alard’s walking stick spewed fire, and Grandma Sarah’s wooden spoon sent out an opalescent protective field, but the shaman’s staff was different. I didn’t have either the walking stick or the spoon with me, but the staff had power of its own. I felt a force of will, the determination of a people who had faced great hardship and overcome it. I felt the long-ago shaman’s magic, power and defiance, and it gave me strength to hold the staff against the dark onslaught.
I could feel the darkness resisting, fighting the staff, unwilling to yield. Memories continued to pour through me, binding me to the staff. I had no idea how to control the staff’s power or do more than hold the darkness at bay.
The door to the outside slammed open, shaking the glass in the windows. I felt the magic before I caught a glimpse of Lucinda’s face; it was wild like a hurricane and powerful as a storm at sea. Lucinda was chanting in a language I did not understand, but the power behind her words thrummed through my body and resonated with the magic in the staff.
Lucinda swept into the foyer, and out of the corner of my eye, it was as if another image was superimposed over her face, a bent old man with a straw hat who smelled of pipe tobacco. Outside, I could hear the frantic barking of dogs.
Lucinda stretched out her hand toward the stairs, and powerful magic flowed from her, ripping the darkness asunder. The shadows recoiled, disappearing back up the steps until once again I could glimpse the ceiling and hallway wallpaper. Abruptly, the music box fell silent.
I did not move. I was shaking, still holding the shaman’s staff outstretched, trying to remember to breathe. It took a few breaths before I could lower the staff. The images in my mind reverberated with Lucinda’s magic as if her power and its magic were of old acquaintance. I felt its reverence for the spirit I glimpsed of an old man who tipped his hat and vanished. Gratitude threatened to overwhelm me. I did not want to imagine what would have happened if the darkness had taken me.
“Thank you,” I said. My voice was trembling. “How did you know I needed you?”
Lucinda’s laugh was warm and full. “I didn’t know, child. I had an appointment with Mrs. Morrissey. I should have been here twenty minutes ago, but everything seemed to go wrong. That’s when I knew I had to hurry, because it felt as if something was preventing me from coming. And when I came up on the piazza, I could feel the power of that darkness and I knew someone was in trouble. So I just did what I do.”
Now that I had a moment to collect my wits, I realized that Lucinda wore a business suit, instead of the flowing skirt and shawl she had on when she had warded my home. “You’re the professor Mrs.
Morrissey said was coming, the expert on African myth and folklore,” I said, belatedly putting the pieces together.
“The same,” she said with a wide smile. “Dr. Lucinda Walker, College of Charleston Humanities Department, at your service.” She winked at me. “You didn’t think I spent all my time blessing houses in the dead of night, did you?”
I was still so rattled I wasn’t sure what to think. “I’m glad you had an appointment today. I don’t know that I could have held off Jeremiah by myself for very long.”
“Humph. That shadow wasn’t going to get close to you when you were using my grandmother’s staff.”
I looked from Lucinda to the staff that was still clutched, white-knuckled, in my hand. Slowly, I held it out to her, and she took it reverently, then kissed the agate stone and murmured something I did not hear, something that sounded like a blessing or endearment. She carefully replaced the staff on the wall in its holder.
“Your grandmother’s staff?” I echoed.
Lucinda nodded. “I loaned the items for the root worker exhibit, some from my family and some from around. I’m the eighth generation to do root magic in my family. It’s an ancient and proud tradition.”
Knowing Mrs. Morrissey was due back any moment, I gave Lucinda a quick recap of what had happened. She nodded as if such a story was the most natural thing in the world.
“Spirits like Jeremiah Abernathy were bad news when they were alive, and they’re no better after they’re dead,” Lucinda said when I finished. “He could have thrown you for a turn if he had gotten to you. And that Lavinia Fisher was pure evil. You sure don’t want to mess with her.”
“I thought I saw an old man, with a hat. He smelled of pipe smoke.”
Lucinda smiled broadly. “Ah, that’s Papa. Papa Legba, one of the most powerful Loas. I asked him for protection when I knew there was evil inside and someone needing help.”
“Please tell him thank you for me,” I replied. “I’m glad both of you showed up when you did.”
“I’ll bring him some rum and sweet potatoes and tell him they’re from you,” Lucinda promised. “I’ll make an offering tonight, and add a few gifts of my own. I tell you true—I felt better for both you and me when I knew Papa was with us.” Together, we hung the pictures back on the wall that had fallen when Jeremiah’s spirit attacked.
“I see you’ve met.” Mrs. Morrissey’s voice startled me. She had come in the open door behind us, and looked a little flushed from the heat outside. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
“I just got here,” Lucinda said. “And Cassidy and I were just making introductions.”
Mrs. Morrissey looked at me. “Thank you for watching the office while I was gone. Did you need to go back up to the stacks today?”
I managed to repress a shiver. “I think I’d better get back to the shop,” I said. “Thank you for your help.” I paused. “With all the old items in the Archive’s collection, have you ever seen ghosts here?”
Mrs. Morrissey nodded. “Hard to find an old home in Charleston that isn’t haunted,” she replied. “But I’ve never felt frightened, at least, not until we created the Rogues exhibit.” She managed a wan smile, but I could see that something had rattled her. “To tell you the truth, it gives me the creeps. I’ll be glad when those pieces go back into storage.”
MY HEAD WAS still spinning as I headed back to Trifles and Folly. A water main break was tying up traffic, so fewer tourists than usual milled around the streets window-shopping. Even so, several people were browsing in the shop when I returned, and so I headed behind the counter to answer questions and help them find what they were looking for. Conversation with Teag would have to wait.
The shoppers made their purchases and left the store. Teag shot me a victorious grin.
“That was a five-hundred dollar sale.”
I gave him a tired smile in return and sat down at the stool behind the counter. “I made a three hundred dollar sale – and was menaced by the ghost of Jeremiah Abernathy.”
Teag’s grin faded. “At the Archive? Damn. Are you okay?” I nodded tiredly. “I am now – thanks to Lucinda.”
“What was Lucinda doing at the Archive?”
Teag listened intently as I recapped what had happened. I filled him in what on I had learned in the stacks before the ghostly attack, and finished off with a detailed description of the incident in the foyer – complete with Lucinda’s dramatic entrance and scholarly alter-ego.