Chapter 10: The Banishing Spell

“What are they saying?” I asked, drumming my fingers a frantic rhythm on the tabletop.

Erin looked up, exasperated. “They’re mostly just asking how I managed to get involved with a vampire and a vengeful ghost on the same night.” Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. “It’s Granny… Crap. I forgot she has a smartphone.”

Before I could question the timing, I remembered: Erin’s granny was THE witch in the family line. “Maybe she knows something. She’s old school.”

Spencer, finally breathing normally, leaned forward, a dreamy look in his eyes. “Wait, your sweet little granny is a powerful sorceress? This is gold.”

“It’s the dark side of the family,” Erin mumbled, answering the call. “Hi Gran, how…” She stopped, nodding rapidly, her eyes wide. She pulled the phone away and placed it on the table. Tapping a button, she announced, “Go ahead, you’re on speakerphone. She says she ‘saw the posts.’”

Erin’s granny had the voice of a stern, no-nonsense military drill sergeant. I was not surprised when she immediately began barking orders into the silent room.

“I’m not sure what chaotic nonsense you children are into tonight,” the voice crackled, “but Erin, y’all need to gather dirt… real dirt, not that decorative, overpriced mulch… from the property. Someone needs a metal bowl and must scrape splinters and grime from all the outer doorways of the house and put it in. Then, find something small that belongs to the new owners and add that. Do you still have those cedar sticks?”

“Yes, Gran,” Erin replied, meekly.

“Good. You’ll need them too. Now, I’m texting you the words. Say them three times. I won’t tell you to be careful, because I know you better be careful.”

The line went dead.

Erin met my eye. “She saw the posts.”

I shook my head and couldn’t help but laugh, mostly from relief. “Well, at least she was pleasant. For a witch who saw a social media post about a cursed vampire attack.”

Erin took a deep, fortifying breath. “Alright. We have a plan. We parse out the jobs, we move faster.”

I quickly sized up the remaining trauma level of the group. “I’ll get the dirt. Erin, you get the scrapings. Lizzie and Zora, find that metal bowl in the kitchen and help Erin set up.” I turned to Spencer. “Can you get something that belongs to the new owners?”

Spencer pulled out his small notebook and a pen from the spine. “Will this work? I stole it from Dad’s desk before we left. Technically his property, now their problem.”

Erin smiled grimly. “Perfect. That’ll do nicely.”

We split up. Zora and Lizzie began methodically searching the kitchen cabinets. Erin followed them, looking for a suitably sharp object for the scraping. Spencer, ever the professional, was already jotting down notes about his near-death experience. I clutched my candle and questioned every life choice that led me to volunteer for the go outside and find dirt in the dark job.

“I’m heading outside,” I called out, reaching for the door. “If I’m not back in five minutes, come find me and assume I’ve been eaten by a cursed raccoon.”

I stepped out onto the porch. It was oppressively dark. The power outage stretched for miles, and the cloudy sky only allowed a few weak stars to bleed through. The steps were slick, so I descended carefully. The fancy landscaping offered close dirt, but Granny said real dirt. I stepped into the yard.

That’s when I realized my fatal mistake: I had nothing to dig with or carry the dirt in.

“Dammit,” I cursed, crouching down. I tore up a handful of grass and clawed into the sandy soil beneath. Weighing the cold, gritty earth in my hand, I sighed and shoved it into my jacket pocket. I grabbed another handful for good measure.

The wind was colder now. A sudden, sharp scratching sound erupted near the fence. I didn’t look. I didn’t even breathe. I bolted back up the steps and yanked the front door handle.

It was locked.

I left it open! I hammered on the wood. “Erin! Let me in!” I yelled, but the wind and the ocean’s roar swallowed my voice. I leaned over and banged on the window by the door. No one came. I rattled both door handles, a full-blown panic seizing me.

Just as my heart was about to self-destruct, the door swung open.

“The door was locked,” Erin said calmly, still using a gouging tool to shave splinters from the door frame.

“I know! I was trying to get back in!” I rushed past her toward the table, then turned back to see her closing and re-locking the door. I managed a shaky apology. “I’m sorry. I got scared out there.”

Erin placed her arm around me, giving me a rare, shoulder-level side-hug… she towered nearly four inches over me. “It is okay. I would be too.” We moved together to the table.

Erin took a breath. “Lizzie, the bowl.”

Lizzie handed over the metal bowl. Erin carefully placed the towel full of door-scrapings next to it. “Dani, the dirt?”

I sheepishly sidled up and pointed to my pocket. Erin snickered. “It’s in your pocket?”

It was ridiculous. I chuckled, dumping the cold handfuls of sandy soil onto the table beside the bowl. Erin added the scrapings, followed by Spencer’s dad’s pen. Then, she lit both ends of the cedar sticks and placed them in the bowl.

“Everyone hold hands. Now.”

We reached out, connecting the circuit: Erin to Spencer and me; Lizzie to Zora and me. The moment our hands grasped, a low, intense hum of energy vibrated through the chain.

Erin whispered a few words, and smoke billowed up from the bowl. Slowly at first, and then whoomph, flames erupted, licking the air just above the metal. The fire was normal for a beat, until Erin spoke a few more, deeper syllables, and the flames shifted, burning a startling, unnerving shade of purple.

I looked up to meet Erin’s eyes, but I saw Sadie.

“Erin! She’s behind you!”

Sadie appeared, angry and pacing, her familiar blue replaced by that malevolent, toxic green glow. Erin was startled but kept her gaze fixed on the fire. Her voice grew stronger with each word of the incantation.

She paused, then began the chant: “Sadie, I banish you. You will not cross our threshold. We ward this home, lost soul, against all evil doing. Go now, and do not darken this doorstep again.”

You could see the immediate impact. Our ghost began to melt into the darkness; the warmer, benevolent purple glow of the spell slowly replaced her vicious green hue. She was fading, but she was smiling.

“She’s disappearing,” I squeezed Erin’s hand. She smiled back, and the spell wavered. “Don’t stop!”

Erin nodded quickly and repeated the words, emphasizing each one carefully: “Sadie, I banish you. You shall not cross this threshold. We ward this home, lost soul, against all evil doing. Go now, and do not darken this doorstep again.”

Sadie stepped back from the table, barely visible. “She’s almost gone,” I reported. “And I think she looks happy now.”

Erin’s hands began to tremble. “Say it with me,” she begged, struggling to maintain the flow of power.

I looked around. Everyone was ready. We spoke in powerful unison: “Sadie, we banish you. You shall not cross this threshold. We ward this home, lost soul, against all evil doing. Go now, and do not darken this doorstep again.”

Sadie dissolved entirely into the darkness. The release of energy was palpable, like a thousand spiderwebs sweeping across our skin. The air pressure shifted, and our ears popped simultaneously.

We all nursed our ears, shaking our heads. I checked my hearing… the ocean noise returned, a comforting drone. “Are you okay?” I asked Erin, my voice coming out as a surprised yell. I shrank back, apologizing at a much lower decibel.

Erin smiled, but her brow furrowed. “Yes, but something isn’t right.”

I let go of her hand. “What? She’s gone. You did it!”

“I know, but the flame was supposed to burn out,” she shook her head. “It’s still going.”

Spencer shrugged. “Don’t stress. You did it! Super easy, barely an inconvenience!”

We let go of hands and clapped for Erin, who finally broke into a wide smile.

“Erin!” I squealed, pulling her into a fierce hug. “You did it!”

“Who’s the Supreme now?!” Spencer yelled, referencing some obscure witch TV show that only he and Erin watched.

Erin laughed, blowing on the persistent purple flames. When that failed, she tossed all the remaining dirt into the bowl until the fire sputtered, died, and stopped smoking.

“I deserve a cookie,” Erin declared, grabbing the nearest remaining sweet. We followed her lead, gathering the few remaining snacks and heading for the couch.

Everyone but Spencer… who detoured toward his room… headed for the living area.

“What is Spencer doing?” Erin asked, stealing one of my jelly beans.

I shrugged, but Spencer’s door opened, and he answered for himself.

“I remembered packing an emergency blunt in my overnight bag.” Spencer emerged, spinning the fat joint on his hand like a cheerleader’s baton. He flicked his lighter, and before anyone could object (not that we would), the comforting, pungent smoke filled the air.

I took a healthy, much-needed puff, hacking slightly as the fuzzy warmth began. Erin took a drag, and Zora followed. Zora offered it to Lizzie, who politely but firmly shook her head no.

“Not feeling well?” Erin asked, never one to skip a nosey question.

Lizzie looked uncomfortable. “It doesn’t work for me.”

“What?” Spencer sat up. “Do you mean tonight, or… at all?”

Lizzie sighed. “At all. I don’t get high like I used to.”

Spencer’s jaw dropped. “Whoa. That’s terrible. Literally the worst part of being immortal.”

Erin leaned forward, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Okay, what else can’t you do? As a vampire, what stories are true? Can you turn into a bat?”

“You have zero tact, Erin,” I scolded.

“No, let her ask now,” Lizzie interrupted, sitting on the couch. “It’s easier to answer when I’m this relaxed. Ask all your questions, and then I say we go to bed.”

Erin rubbed her hands together. “Okay, what about earlier with that book? Was there a cross on it? Do crosses hurt you?”

“I’m not sure about the book, but crosses don’t hurt me,” Lizzie clarified.

“They don’t?” Zora asked, surprised.

Lizzie shook her head. “No, but whatever is on that book certainly did.” She pointed to the book I had found with Sadie’s name on it. We passed it around, but Lizzie curled away from it. Seeing the cover design from afar, she added, “That looks a lot like the symbols I saw on graves in New Orleans.”

Erin was instantly back on her phone. “I’m on it.” She snapped a photo and started typing, the dial-a-witch app proving useful once again.

We were all on the edge of our seats when she announced, “It’s definitely Voodoo.” She paused, reading. “They think it’s something called a Vèvè, spelled V-E-V-E. The symbol is drawn on the ground during a ritual to compel a spirit, or lwa. They think the energy in this specific symbol must be death magic.”

We froze at the mention of death magic. We all looked at Lizzie. She just shrugged her shoulders. “Accepting that I was no longer human was hard, almost too hard. I’m just learning to live with it.”

Spencer broke the silence, cackling. “Oh my god! She’ll live with it!”

The pun was so ironic and dark that everyone, including Lizzie, burst into a fit of giggles. Erin put down her phone. “Okay, plan: We keep this book away from Lizzie until I can get it checked properly.”

Zora spoke up quietly. “May we ask you more questions?”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows but nodded yes.

Zora began, “We know you drink blood, and can also eat real food…”

“Yeah, about that,” Lizzie interjected, a flicker of genuine sadness crossing her face. “I can’t enjoy food. It goes to ash after a few seconds in my mouth.”

“Oh, Lizzie, that’s awful,” Zora said, instantly placing a comforting hand on Lizzie’s leg.

Lizzie looked at the hand, placed her own over it, and squeezed gently. “It’s okay. I’m adjusting.”

Erin, seeing an opening, jumped in. “So, you can’t be in the sun without your necklace?”

Lizzie instinctively reached for her throat. Her necklace, which she had taken off earlier, wasn’t there. Zora remembered and reached behind her neck. But with a silent, almost invisible burst of speed, Lizzie’s hands were there first. She brushed her fingers along Zora’s skin as she retrieved the clasp. Zora shivered.

Spencer grinned. “And you’re fucking fast. I remember you catching me earlier. Thank you, by the way.”

Lizzie waved him off, smiling as she put on the necklace. “Sadly, it comes at a cost. Too much showing off can really drain me unless I feed.”

Erin snorted a laugh. “Kind of like you do people, then. Drain them.”

The joke was so bad we all stared at Erin, but Lizzie laughed the hardest.

Spencer put a hand to his neck. “How do you keep from exposing your secret?” He pulled out his notebook again, then realized the pen was currently an ingredient in a banishing spell.

Lizzie sobered. “I am very careful.”

“How can you give someone such a moment and then expect them to keep quiet?” Spencer looked surprisingly serious.

“I have ways to help them forget,” Lizzie said blankly. “I can suggest they forget, and it works most of the time.”

Zora picked up on the key phrase. “Most of the time?”

Lizzie seemed startled that Zora had chimed in. “Yes, some people are natural resisters. Dani is one, so she got to keep my secret.”

“Wait, you fed on Dani?” Erin called out.

“No!” We both said it at the same time.

I continued, “No, she didn’t bite me. She spilled her lunch in my car.”

Mouths dropped around the room as everyone slowly processed that Lizzie had spilled blood in my sedan.

“It was quite the mess to clean up, but the detailer said nothing. I think Lizzie helped with that, now that I think about it,” I paused, raising an eyebrow at the absurdity of the whole night. “Okay, that’s probably enough questions for one night.”

Erin nodded in agreement. Spencer sat back, and everyone got comfortable. The air was calm, the intense energy of the evening finally settling. Lizzie and Zora were side-by-side on the couch, I stretched out on the chaise lounge, and Erin and Spencer folded into the large chairs. The heavy feeling of sleep descended. Before anyone could suggest getting up, we were all, finally, asleep.