“I don’t know.”
“You want to locate a shadow, but not a person?”
“Correct.”
“But you don’t know who the shadow belongs to?”
“Also correct.”
“Do I want to know why?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to tell you.”
“Does this have something to do with Darlene’s death?”
Meemaw shrugged. “I didn’t tell her anything.”
I believed her. “I need your solemn promise not to share this with anyone outside these four walls.”
Margie tossed back her wine. “Hit me.”
“Darlene may have been murdered by a shadow, and I would like a spell that helps me locate this shadow, or the use of shadow magic, before it kills again.”
Margie’s eyes lit up. “A serial killer shadow? That would be unprecedented.”
“I would rather not have a serial killer on the island, if it’s all the same to you. One death is quite enough.”
“I have an idea for a spell.” Meemaw opened her pantry door, and I caught a glimpse of the inventory—row upon row of jars, each one labeled and stocked with herbs.
“Where do you get all those herbs?” I asked.
“I order them online.” She gave me a brief look. “Not to worry. I place my order through the official channels.”
“Why not use the community garden like the rest of us?”
“Why bother when it’s so easy these days? I envy the younger generation. The world at your fingertips.”
“You’re a witch. The world’s always been at your fingertips.”
“We’re not all-powerful genies,” Meemaw countered. “There are limits to our magic, otherwise I wouldn’t need to complain about hip pain or hearing loss.”
“There are meds for those.”
“And I take them. I don’t reject modern medicine just because I’m a witch.” She set a few jars on the counter between us.
“What kind of spell are we doing?” Margie asked.
“A diagnostic one that seeks out abnormalities,” Meemaw replied.
“On this island?” Margie scoffed. “The whole place will light up.”
Meemaw ignored her. “I’m not aware of a spell specific enough to find your rogue shadow, but this one should detect a mystical abnormality.” She pulled open a kitchen drawer and retrieved a folded pamphlet.
“That’s your instructional manual?”
“No, this is a map of the Neighborhood.” The crone unfolded the pamphlet and spread it across the table. “If the magic detects anything, the spell will indicate where to find it.”
Once upon a time, I would’ve come up with this idea on my own. I’d grown soft on the island. Then again, wasn’t that the point, at least in part? Yes, I escaped here to hide, but also to get away from the hard life that had been thrust upon me at a young age. I should rejoice in the fact that I was not the one performing this spell alone in some gritty back alleyway, laden with weapons. I was in the comfort of Meemaw’s kitchen with two helpful witches and a nice glass of wine to wash it all down. I shouldn’t feel so twitchy about it.
