Page 98 of Twisted Ties
“Not if they were ordinary people, living ordinary lives.”
“You think that?” I ask with irritation.
The old woman shrugs. “I think if it was so important to your aunt that you stay hidden and protected she would have left you something to keep you safe. Maybe that was the knife.”
“She,” I swallow, “passed unexpectedly. I don’t think she ever thought she would leave me so suddenly. So soon.”
“You said your aunt had it ‘pulled-together’. She would have prepared for such an eventuality. Nearly all mothers do.”
“Her locket,” I say, defeated.
“She was buried with it,” Winnie explains. “We went to the cemetery. Tried to retrieve it with a summoning spell. It didn’t work.”
“Then it wasn’t there.”
“It was,” I say.
The old woman shakes her head, then gently nudges the dog off her lap and stands, walking over to the large cabinet that lines one wall of the room. She opens one of the wooden doors and rummages inside, pulling out a small silver dish.
“We may be able to work out where it is.”
Winnie grins at me as if to say, ‘isn’t she the best?’ If she can tell me where the necklace is, then I’ll have to agree.
Rosa places the dish on the table next to the teacup and disappears into the kitchen, returning a moment later with crushed herbs in one hand and a small vial of clear liquid in another.
“Summoning spells are mighty useful for lost things, but you need something a little stronger if the object isn’t nearby.”
She lets the crushed herbs fall into the dish, then pulls out the stopper from the vial with a pop and shakes five drops into the dish. The liquid hisses against the herbs, turning them black and shriveled until they dissolve and the liquid turns jet.
“It tastes pretty foul, I’m afraid, but it does the trick.”
“I have to taste it?” I say, alarmed.
“You’re the only one who has a connection with this object, who knows what it looks like.”
I peer at Winnie.
“It worked when I lost my favorite earring somewhere on campus last year,” she says.
“Okay.”
“Just dip your finger into the mixture and place it on your tongue.” I do as she says and the foul-tasting concoction, like burned tar, stings against my tongue. “Now closeyour eyes and bring an image of the object into your mind’s eye.” Again I follow her instructions, conjuring the image of the necklace behind my closed eyelids. “What do you see?”
“The necklace.”
“Good. What else?”
I frown. The taste of the mixture catching in my throat. “Nothing, just the necklace.”
“Look harder.”
I screw up my eyes and focus in on the necklace. “It’s not working,” I say in irritation.
Winnie rests her hand on my shoulder. “You need to look past the locket, Rhi. At where it is.”
I try to relax, letting my mind drift. The necklace is resting on something. At first I think it’s my aunt’s clavicle, but lines criss-cross the skin.
“Someone is wearing the locket.”
