"Sorry! What did I miss?" Bran asked, finally appearing by her side, looking tired and drained from his travels. "Has the silent auction started?" he asked, picking up the fruit skewer from her plate and taking a bite. "I'm starved! Is there any food left?"
"Let's go see," Freya said. She kissed her beloved on the cheek, the key heavy and hot in her pocket, an iron poker.
Chapter fifteen
A Certain Wild Magic
Her dress pinched at the waist and Joanna squirmed in her old-fashioned girdle. It was why she did not go to very many fancy parties these days, as she despised wearing tight clothing. Was it her imagination or was her dress so much smaller than she remembered? Her feet hurt, too; why did she let Freya talk her into wearing heels? It was a nice event, and good to see the community pulling together after a disaster. There was a lot of unease and uncertainty in the air. No one was quite sure how it would affect the local economy, but certainly not only the fishing industry but many of the local restaurants that specialized in seafood from the coastal waters were in danger. It was such a shame, and one that no one mentioned since it was much too painful, but the consequences were already being felt; instead of the usual northeastern summer spread, the dinner entree was some sort of chicken a la boring.
Joanna bade her good-byes to her daughters: Freya was huddled somewhere with Bran, while Ingrid sat at a table with a few of her cohorts from the library. She left the party and began to walk home. The city square was a few blocks away from the beachfront, and her house was just a mile down the shore. It was a pleasant summer evening, and the grassy dunes made this stretch of beach seem more private than the rest of the shore. She could scarcely hear the last sounds of the party behind her as she stepped onto the warm sand. She removed her shoes and carried them by their straps, and stepped onto the warm crystals. The heat of the day was still radiating from the ground and it felt good on her feet, like the heated marble floors they had in high-end hotel room bathrooms.
The tall dunes formed a private corridor, a place where she could be alone with the roar of the ocean and the chirping of the gulls. It was quieter tonight than usual. The waves were calm and the gulls absent. Perhaps it was that gray mass out there in the ocean that had silenced the birds. She looked at the sea and it seemed darker than normal, as if whatever was happening out there had pulled all of the shimmer from the water. The ocean looked dead and empty, blacker than the sky above.
She wished she'd worn her trenchcoat, as the first cool breezes rolled off the water toward her. She could not make out the sounds of the party anymore, only the rushing, rolling waves. Joanna stopped to look at a circle of yellow police tape held aloft on metal posts just to her left. The tape was tattered and blowing in the wind; it had been there since January, when an early-morning jogger had found Bill and Maura on the ground. She wasn't close to either of them, but like the couple had shared an affinity for this place. In the evenings she'd often catch the two of them walking in the high dunes, sometimes perched on the tallest bluff, staring out at the ocean or upward at the bright stars. Joanna made a wide arc around the police line, glancing only sideways at the ragged yellow tape.
The sand by the water's edge was cold and wet, so Joanna decided to walk up the sandy dune instead. She climbed up, feeling the thick grass and withered stems scrape at her legs, until she was on top of it. The wind was colder up here, but the view was better. She could see all the way across to Gardiners Island and Fair Haven, to the lighthouse that Bran had restored. Joanna decided to sit and rest for a minute, and idly grasped a stalk of the long, dead grass that covered the mound. She hated to see dead things, and the brittle gray stem began to loosen and expand in her grip, its ashen color changing from silver to a brilliant green as life poured back into the plant. Hold on, what was happening? She had not done anything to bring it back to life, she was quite sure. Joanna watched in fascination as the green spread like a wave across the dune, bringing all the plants to life. She threw the stalk away and gazed in wonderment at the thick green grass. It felt lush and soft to the touch, and had grown waist-high.
She almost laughed, but there was a sudden tickle at the back of her neck and she spun around. All around her the grass had multiplied and was winding upward around her on all sides. The verdant green now seemed a darker color, as if covered by a shadow. The stalks whipped violently around her. This was not cute anymore, nor part of her magic, if it had ever been. She turned to leave, but before she could act, Joanna felt a powerful tug and she was thrown to the ground. The stars faded as a wash of darkness flowed over her body and the grass wrapped and twisted around her throat and chest. The texture of the grass was no longer soft but coarse, its stems harder and denser. Joanna struggled, but as the grass wound tighter it formed a kind of natural straightjacket, binding her limbs and flattening her chest. She felt a mass push down on her as if to force the air from lungs. Joanna screamed and heard her voice echo against the lonely beach. The party was distant, its loud sounds inaudible.
Joanna pulled at the stalk nearest her head and squeezed, shouting an incantation she had not used in a very long time. But the words worked, and the tangle around her face dispersed. She could see the stars again, and the stalks began to weaken and slide away, thinning like an old man's hair right before her eyes.
Whatever had brought the plants to life was gone, and all around the grass was gray and withered as before. She wasn't sure if the plants had reacted to her presence, or if her magic had accidentally disturbed them. Certainly North Hampton was a place where things like this could happen, being so close to the seam and all. Ingrid had mentioned something in passing the other morning, about how she had noticed a gray darkness in the spirits of the people in town. Joanna had meant to look into it but had been busy with home renovations and with Tyler. The boy had recovered from that nasty ear infection and was back to his old habits: lining up his trains, running around in circles, refusing to eat anything but tunafish sandwiches.
Joanna chided herself for allowing herself to be distracted; constant vigilance was key to keeping North Hampton protected. She stood and scurried down the bluff, tearing at the dead grass as she cut through it on her way back to the beach. First the three dead birds, now this. There was something new and strange in town; something wicked this way had come.
Chapter sixteen
Friend or Fraud
Shall I send in the rabid hordes?" Hudson asked, leaning on the office door, his hand on the doorknob. Ingrid knew he found the whole enterprise on the droll side - he insisted on calling her the White Witch of the Library, and had threatened to market T-shirts, or worse, start a Web site.