I knew this, recalling how she’d always buy first class tickets to our holiday destinations simply for the leg room.
While Miss Mabelle and Aunt Lizzy both claimed to have picked it out, I had a feeling it was mostly Miss Mabelle with the insight that led them to this particular choice. Her assumptions of me so far had been unpredictably accurate.
The inspection of it over, someone suggested a quick ride around the Garden District. So I slipped into the front seat and started the engine. It purred.
With everyone piled in, we drove through the streets focused more on the vehicle than on where we were going - at least until I turned down a particular street.
“
Not this one,” Spencer shouted but it was too late.
I had turned the corner.
In reaction, I slowed only to be told to go faster.
“
Why?” I asked, puzzled by their frenzy.
If they answered, I didn’t hear them. I’d already found it myself.
In the driveway of one particular house, a peaceful, well kept, two-story that reminded me a lot of where I now lived, sat a row of luxury off-road vehicles, the same ones I’d seen a few Caldwells driving off the school parking lot. As if that weren’t enough, the synchronous turn of my cousin’s heads to the opposite side of the street was enough confirmation.
“
The Caldwell house,” I stated.
“
Yes,” said Estelle through clenched teeth, reminding me of someone who was getting a vaccination.
Painful or not, I had to keep driving passed the house. Turning at this point would make it obvious we were here. Just like my cousins, they parked in a cohesive line along the front of the house and they each drove a sporty vehicle.
I wasn’t the only one to realize it either.
“
They look so normal,” Vinnia noted in her typical precise estimation of others after having been daring enough to look.
Estelle shook her head in astonishment. “I know.”
“
Haven’t you seen it before?” I inquired, a little confused. “You must have done intel on your mortal enemies.” I meant this humorously but no one laughed.
“
We have,” Oscar said tightly. “We know just about everything there is to know about each of them.”
By this point, the house was behind us and, even though the joy of the ride ended at the sight of the Caldwell home, I kept driving, hoping they would disclose more. And they did.
“
Their father is an investment banker, their mother volunteers like ours,” said Oscar. “They’re not around much so the kids were raised by their Haitian housekeeper, Miss…”
“
Celia,” Estelle filled in.
“
Yes, the one who practices voodoo.”
“
Voodoo?” I said impulsively.
“
That’s right,” Oscar said as if it were a common occurrence. “She’s one of the most sought after in the city - next to Miss Mabelle.”
It dawned on me that this was what the hanging skulls and countless candles were in her room. It should have concerned me, which would have been the logical reaction. But other than her surly attitude, which apparently was a core part of her personality and not solely directed at me, she’d done her best to fit things to my needs. It was what I imagined Miss Celia did for the Caldwells.
“
They’re wealthy,” Oscar continued, drawing my attention back to him and returning the subject to the Caldwells. “But they rarely spend money, their cars being the exception. No big parties, no family vacations.”
“
No expensive toys,” said Estelle. “You, Oscar, would never survive in that family.”
“
It’s a good thing you’re stuck with me than,” he ribbed.
I turned on to our street then wondering if the Caldwells had the same bond, same camaraderie as my cousins.
When we reached the house we found that dinner was ready, something that I didn’t know was gumbo until Spencer congratulated Miss Mabelle on it being her best dish. I had two servings, it was so good.
Afterwards, as Miss Mabelle cleaned the dishes, my cousins and I sat at the kitchen table with books assigned to us from the normal school. None of us touched them though. I had questions nagging me and this was my first opportunity to ask them.
“
Vinnia,” I said, keeping my voice low so I didn’t disturb the others, even though I found out quickly they weren’t actually dedicated to their studies. She looked up, inquisitive. “How do you…How do you fly?”
In jest, she lifted her shoulders in a shrug and the book in front of her rose in unison.
I gave her a frustrated look and she giggled. “I’m sorry. Couldn’t resist… It’s called levitation.” She placed the pencil in her hand on the table and leaned back. “Back when witches were being burned at the stake here and in Europe, there were a lot of misconceptions about us. One, however, was correct. We are able to…fly, as you called it. We don’t need a broomstick. And we aren’t restricted to using it on All Hallows Eve or Halloween. The only limitation is that those of us who can do it are born with it. No one can learn to levitate, unfortunately.”
I nodded. “Right. Everyone’s born with their own unique abilities,” I replied, recalling what Jameson had told me while buying school supplies.
“
Exactly,” said Vinnia. “Mother and I levitate. Estelle and Oscar manipulate elements. Well, Oscar to some extent,” she teased and received a scowl for it. “Spencer and Nolan channel.”
“
But everyone has the aptitude to learn other skills,” clarified Spencer. “You can learn to manipulate the elements or channel. But you’ll never be as good at them as you are with your principal talent.”
“
That’s right,” said Vinnia. “You can learn to channel energy, thoughts, or knowledge of the future, commonly called intuition by those outside our world, but others will always be better at it than you.” At the mention of channeling, I immediately thought of Jameson and a pang of excitement lit up my stomach.
“
There are really only two abilities that cannot be learned,” Vinnia continued to explain. “Levitation and-”
“
Healing,” said Estelle pointedly.
“
Is that your talent?” asked Nolan.
I shrugged, refusing to vocalize it. I still wasn’t entirely embracing the idea of me having a talent of any mystical sort.
“
You still haven’t accepted it yet, have you?” asked Estelle, observantly.
Not wanting to be refuted, I simply smiled back at her.
After a brief silence in which my cousins exchanged looks of concern, Miss Mabelle cleared her throat and said, “Goin’ upstairs now. Keep it quiet or I’ll be back down ta knock heads.”
We said our goodnights and she left as Spencer stretched his legs out, laid his hands across his belly, and said, “But then, of course, there are The Sevens. They’ve been around so long that they have acquired special talents. They can transfer abilities or energy between them. While that may not sound so impressive, think of centuries of knowledge and practical exercise in leveraging energy to do as you wish and then think about transferring all that power in to a single person. It would make them virtually indestructible.”
“
Which is why they’ve lived for centuries,” said Estelle.
As if I weren’t amazed enough already, Vinnia added, “And if seven individuals were able to transfer those powers among one another, in part or as a whole, whenever one or more of them were at risk - that would make all of them virtually indestructible.”
“
For example, consider that most of us are not born able to levitate and are forever grounded. Each one of The Sevens can levitate.”
“
And channel…”
“
And heal…”
“
And manipulate the elements…”
“
And they are experts in each one.”
I now understood Mr. Thibodeaux’s anxiety about The Sevens seeking the rope I had stored upstairs and how Ms. Roquette could be disabled from speaking for six months as punishment by The Sevens. The Sevens were impenetrable.
As the topic moved to something more lighthearted, like why Oscar’s attempt to start a flame typically resulted in setting the object next to it on fire, a realization overcame me. I had entered a world that was just as dark as it was mystical. I appreciated the fact that my mother had removed me from it until I was prepared to learn to defend myself and that Nurse Carol had recognized this was the time to do it. If, of course, any of it were actually real.
Several charred remains later, Oscar gave up his attempt to control the flames he conjured, all of us holding back our laughter at his attempts, and we collected our school books and untouched assignments to head upstairs.
I slept well that night, even waking up early and venturing downstairs after hearing someone noisily clanging cookware together.
“
Good Lord, Miss Lizzy. Why you always got ta be so loud?” Miss Mabelle’s voice drifted around down the hall toward me.
“
Jocelyn, you’re up!”
“
Hi, Aunt Lizzy,” I said and then glanced in Miss Mabelle’s direction, who sat on her stool in the corner again, cane leaning in its spot against her thigh. She tilted her head and looked up at me under her lashes as I asked, “Joyful as always this morning?”
She harrumphed and rolled her eyes in response.
“
Can you get your cousins up too?” Aunt Lizzy asked in a rush around the kitchen, flour drawn across her cheek, her apron askew and dirtied with paste.
“
Voice box broken, Miss Mabelle?” I asked, knowing full well that it wasn’t. It was just getting more entertaining to tease her.
“
Don’t make me use it this monin’, chil’,” she replied snidely.
Smiling, I left the kitchen to wake the rest of the household.
“
Mabelle, come help me with these fritters,” I heard Aunt Lizzy behind me and then came Miss Mabelle’s subsequent snap “I’m old n’ tired!” But as I reached the stairs, Miss Mabelle was back to criticizing my aunt for not turning the fritters fast enough, which confirmed she did indeed lend a hand.
I knocked on everyone’s bedroom door until I heard a reply and then found a phone to make a quick call to my friends in New York. They were in class, but I left a message to let them know everything was fine. Then I went to my room to get ready for school.
I was in a particularly energetic mood today and I knew exactly the reason. In my mind, pieces of my conversation with Jameson the day before came back to me. While his words were compelling, it was his actions that defined his intentions - the intensity of his translucent green eyes, the urgency in his tone, the lean of his body toward me. I was eager for today’s class to start but first there was the obligatory dressing, breakfast, drive, and first class. Hoping it would pass quickly, and this would be an impossible feat, I went about changing my nightclothes to a sundress, knee-high boots, and lots of jewelry. This time, however, I kept the bracelets to my right hand only, leaving my mother’s bracelet completely visible. Whereas before it was just a piece of jewelry, it was now becoming a source of pride, an unspoken acknowledgement that I was a Weatherford.
At breakfast, Aunt Lizzy proudly presented us with a platter of steaming fritters, all of varying degrees of burnt. I chose the closest one to me, not caring so much about the black. I didn’t think anything could bring down my mood today. I was proven wrong when we reached the main hallway at school.
Jameson’s locker, along with Charlotte’s and Burke’s, were located at the entrance so that they couldn’t be missed when I stepped inside.
Right then, my happiness dissolved.
Charlotte rotated around, having closed her locker, to talk with Jameson when she saw us. Instantly, she stepped toward us, her lip curled in a glare.
“
No,” Jameson barked and held her back.
Bewildered, I watched as she attempted to shrug him off, her narrowed eyes still pinned on me and my cousins - but Jameson held on to her.
My cousins and I had stopped in the middle of the hallway at this point, preparing for an assault that seemed inevitable. Burke assisted Jameson in quelling Charlotte and almost dragging her back to the other side of the walkway.
“
I wouldn’t stick around if I were you,” Jameson warned, still subduing his sister, his eyes on me, seeming to speak directly to me.
Leaving did seem like a good idea. Already a crowd was forming. So I headed down the hall with my cousins but not before I saw the cause of Charlotte’s anger.
As she was spun around, her hair picked up and slid over her shoulder exposing the swollen red spots along the length of her neck. Hundreds of them. A fleeting glance at Burke, who was still restraining her, told me that he’d been afflicted, too. The rash had crept out from his hairline and across his temple. My eyes flitted to Jameson just before the crowd swallowed me and I breathed a sigh of relief when I didn’t see any evident sign of the spots on him.
“
That was you, Estelle. Wasn’t it?” Oscar asked behind me.
“
It was a good one,” she said proudly. “Those voodoo dolls really do work!”
Oscar sighed loudly in frustration.
“
What?” she countered. “They deserved it. Now they’ll reconsider retaliating again.”
“
All you did was provoke them, Estelle,” Oscar retorted.