Jilo (Witching Savannah #4)(68)
She entered her bedroom, trying not to see the haint blue that still dominated there, floor to ceiling. A part of her would love nothing better than to do away with it, paint it over with good white lead paint. Leave nothing but plain white walls to shelter her, a plain white ceiling to shield her from the heavens. No magic, just a fresh start. She could have the floor sanded down to the grain, or maybe have it ripped out and replaced with new strips of oak. But the haint blue still served its purpose. Forces, not quite so friendly, still wandered nearby, attracted by the power they sensed residing in this house. If anything, she should give it a fresh coat, as well as the outside of the house, the overhang of the porch, and the shutters and doors.
She kicked off her shoes and sat on the bed, staring at the door to her closet, almost expecting it to open and reveal the Beekeeper’s grand chamber. But it didn’t, and she very nearly regretted that. The magic had left May so alone in the world, exploiting it for those who feared her, trying to shield those she loved from it. The Beekeeper was the source of this divisive magic, but devil or no, at least with the Beekeeper, May had someone who could accept her exactly as she was.
She well remembered the night she’d ordered the creature away from her home, but the truth was, May had never really expected the creature to honor her wishes. Even today, she kept a bottle of the spirits in the pantry, just on the odd chance the Beekeeper might return.
But it had been years now. The war had come and gone since her last visit from the Beekeeper herself, though the cry of a rooster at odd hours seemed an assurance that, even unseen, the Beekeeper was still keeping an eye on things. Her magic had never deserted May. If anything, it had grown stronger, and might be, it struck May, the only thing that was keeping her going.
Her heart jumped as she heard a door creak open, but it settled when she realized it wasn’t the door to her lost friend’s world, just her granddaughter checking in on her.
Jilo poked her head in. “You’re awake now?”
“Of course, I haven’t even lied down yet.”
Jilo’s brow lowered, and she turned her head a touch to the side. “You just been sitting here staring at the wall all this time?”
“What do you mean ‘all this time’? Can’t a body have a minute to collect her thoughts?”
Jilo smiled and came into the room. May noticed that she held something clutched against her bosom. “Of course, Nana. Just want to be sure you’re doing okay.”
The girl sounded worried. May stopped and studied Jilo’s face for a moment, registering the concern in the girl’s eyes. “How long have I been in here?”
“It’s a little over two hours now.”
May startled at Jilo’s words. “It’s all right, Nana. There’s nothing wrong with you,” Jilo said, rushing over to sit next to her on the bed, placing her free hand over May’s own cold one. “I know what today is,” Jilo said, and shifted so that May could see the old cigar box she’d brought in with her. “I know Daddy died twenty years ago today. And I know you’re hurting over it today even more than usual.” Jilo tilted the box up so its illustration caught the light streaming in through the window. “I was thinking about him, too, and I remembered this here old thing, so I went and dug it out. Don’t really know what it’s supposed to be. Some kind of good luck juju or something.” Jilo placed it on May’s lap. “Opal told me that your mama made it for Daddy, and he passed it on to her. When Opal left for California, she gave it to me.”
May lifted the box in both hands, surprised by its heft. She held it up to her ear and gave it a shake, then another, like it was a gift she was anxious to open.
“Don’t bother trying to open it,” Jilo said, placing her finger on the seam of the lid. The top didn’t so much as wiggle. “It’s cemented shut somehow. Tough enough to keep Opal, Poppy, and me from getting it open. Heck, I think even Binah had a go at it once. I guess your mama didn’t want the good juju to spill out.” Jilo tapped the face of the dark-skinned fellow above whose picture the name “John” had been written in large block letters. “Whatever’s in the box is supposed to keep you safe from that fellow. The Red King, I think Opal said Daddy called him.” The girl laughed. May had done a good job of convincing Jilo that the monsters weren’t real and all such charms were nonsense. “Opal told me Daddy said never to let you see it, ’cause you’d toss it out, but . . . it’s all I have of Daddy to share with you.”
As May stared at the box’s illustration, a sick feeling settled in her soul. The man’s top hat. The dandy red scarf.
May positioned her fingers along the seam of the lid. The top flipped open in an instant.
Jilo gasped. “How on earth did you do that?” She reached out for the box, but May pushed her away with a trembling hand. In spite of the box’s weight, it was empty inside, save for one shiny black feather from a rooster’s tail.
“I have been so blind,” May said. The chill that ran through her bones was so acute, she knew she’d never feel warm again. “They were in it together. The two of them. They tricked me.”
Jilo sprang to her feet, grasping May’s forearm and feeling, May realized, for her pulse. “Don’t you be silly, Nana. Daddy and your mama loved you. They’d never trick you.” May felt she should explain, but the door of her closet began creaking open, and a dark mist Jilo didn’t seem to notice came spilling out from the space.