Beneath An Ivy Moon (Legacy Of Magick Series, Book 4) (10 page)

Cypress shined her flashlight on them. “This is the Harris family plot.”

“Harris family?”

“Victoria Crowly’s maiden name was Harris,” Cypress explained.

“Oh, I hadn’t known that.” I lifted my camera, made a few modifications and tried to frame the huge harvest moon into the shot of the small cemetery.

Cypress pointed at my camera. “Can that thing take pictures at night without a flash?”

“Sure,” I said. “You only have to make adjustments for...” I trailed off as movement in the trees caught my eye. I lowered the camera and checked our surroundings. No one was out walking around this section of the campus. At least no one corporeal.

Cypress walked to the open gate, but did not go inside. As I watched, she crouched down and pulled a plastic baggie out of the pocket of her dark blue jacket. She left a small offering of bread right inside of the gate, where it wouldn’t be seen. She said a few soft words I couldn’t quite make out and came back to stand next to me. “I left an offering to Baron Cimitierie,” she explained.

“Covering your bets?” I said.

“I lived in NOLA until I was fourteen. Where I’m from, we take our graveyards seriously.”

“Baron Cimitierie,” I tried to pronounce the name as Cypress had. “Is he an aspect of Baron Samedi?”

Cypress grinned. “That’s a good way to look at it. Baron Cimitierie is a New World spirit. He guards the bones of the dead at night.”

I framed a few more pictures, and we decided to move farther down the hill to the second fenced in plot. This one was a tad smaller and closer to the paved road. I counted eight upright headstones and one big stone box as we walked along. Another waist-high, iron fence surrounded the old family plot. Seven of the stones were very old, and two were more properly called monuments, Cypress explained.

“That one is an obelisk,” Cypress said, pointing to the tallest one. “The one next to it? That looks like a pillar with a drape over it? Would be considered a monument. Not a headstone.”

“You
do
take your cemeteries seriously,” I said, raising the camera to get a few pictures.

“Yes ma’am.” Cypress smiled, shinning her flashlight over the largest headstone. It was much larger, thicker, and a more modern style than the rest in the plot. It stood out from the others.

“It’s pink,” I said, lowering my camera. “Oh god, how tacky...” I tried not to laugh, it didn’t seem appropriate. But the granite tombstone actually sparkled in the beam of Cypress’ flashlight.

“That’s the grave of Victoria Crowly,” Cypress said. “They replaced her tombstone sometime back in the 1980s... apparently the original stone had been damaged.”

“But it’s
pink
!”

Cypress sighed. “Try and focus, girlfriend. We’re here to gather information, not critique the aesthetics or to play tourist.”

I wrinkled my nose at the modern headstone. “I can’t help it Cy. It’s silly and out of place next to the older ones.” We stopped in front of Victoria’s grave, but stayed on the outside of the waist high iron fence to study the engravings.

Cypress shined her flashlight across the stones. “Okay, there’s her husband, Gerald Crowly’s gravestone,” she said, pointing to the old marker to the right of Victoria’s.

“I need to come back during the daylight hours to get clear pictures of all the engravings.” I followed the beam of the flashlight and discovered that on the opposite end of Victoria’s grave was an above ground... crypt, I supposed.

“Hey NOLA girl, would that thing be called a crypt?” I asked Cypress.

“Yes,” Cypress said nonchalantly.

The crypt was situated in the top most corner of the fenced in plot. I made my way over, doing my best not to be creeped out by an above ground burial chamber. I beckoned Cy over and she shined her flashlight on the top. I lifted my camera and tried for a picture of the engraving in the beam of Cy’s flashlight.

“Melinda Harris Easton.” Cypress read the cracked top. “Born 1830. Died 1858. Beloved wife and mother.”

“Harris?” I said. “Wife and Mother. I guess she must have been related to Victoria? A sister maybe?”

“Yeah I found some documentation on a younger sister,” Cypress said, running her fingers along the edge of the crypt. “There are a few old photos of the boys with Victoria in the books I went through.”

“I didn’t think Victoria had children of her own.”

“She didn’t,” Cypress said. “The pictures are with her nephews. Melinda’s children.”

“All boys?” I said, and suddenly I
knew
. “There were three of them, weren’t there?”

“Yes, I can show you the pictures. I have the books back at the dorm.”

The moon had risen higher in the sky, its color fading from orange to pale yellow. I stood a few feet away from the grave of a young mother, a woman who had only been a few years older than myself, and felt incredibly sad. I knew exactly what those little boys had gone through losing their mother. “Can I have a piece of that bread for an offering?” I held out my hand to Cypress.

“Sure,” Cypress said, reaching into her pocket.

I took the small piece of bread and knelt down. The grass was slightly damp, and I felt it seep through the knee of my jeans. Reaching through the spokes of the fence I set the bread in the corner a few feet away from Melinda Easton’s crypt. “Baron Cimitierie, I place this offering with respect. Guard over the remains of these people...” I thought about the crack in the top of the crypt. “Protect this place from mischief and harm,” I felt compelled to add.

Cypress pulled a mini-recorder out of her bag. “I want to see if we can pick up any EVPs.”

She clicked the recorder on and hid it in the tall grass outside of the gate of Victoria Crowly’s plot. She pulled her jangling bracelets off and put them in her pocket, her voice was soft but clear. “EVP session. September fourteenth. Time begun, 9:30 pm.”

Cy stood and nudged my arm. “There’s a spot where we could sit over there. We’d be out of sight to any cars that would drive past. And far enough away from the recorder.”

I followed her lead and we strolled past a few haphazard grave markers outside of the fenced-in plots. Out of respect, we sat well away from the random graves, choosing to sit under a cluster of large trees. We leaned back against the largest tree, where we could watch over the two little cemetery plots. Cypress clicked off her flashlight and we settled in.

There were no cars using the service road along the cemeteries tonight. So it was sort of relaxing to sit and watch the moon rise higher in the sky, the vibe was peaceful and magickal with the Harvest Moon. I tried to pay attention, but after a time my stomach started to grumble. I reached in my tote for the snacks I’d brought along.

“Want a snack?” I whispered, passing her a granola bar.

“Yeah, I’m starving,” Cypress said back as quietly as possible.

I pulled a couple of bottles of water out of my bag and handed her one. We ate in companionable silence. I whispered in her ear. “Nice night.”

“It is, and the full moon is so pretty,” Cypress whispered back. “It’s quiet over on this side of the campus.” She took a swig of water and capped her bottle.

I leaned close again, keeping my voice low as to not mess up her recording. “I don’t think many students come over here, except for Halloween night.” I took a drink. “Or the occasional dare to sorority pledges.”

“Yeah well,” Cypress said softly. “I have never understood the whole fascination with ‘let’s hang out at the Victoria Crowly’s grave expecting to see her ghost thing’.”

“Er, Cypress,” I whispered. “I hate to break it to you, but that’s what we
are
doing.”

“We’re sitting quietly and respectfully. It’s not like we’re doing selfies by the tombstone,” Cypress grumbled.

“How
bourgeois
,” I muttered.

Cypress snorted out a laugh, and promptly clapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes gleamed in the moonlight.

All of my instincts went on full alert. “Do you hear something?” I hissed.

“Don’t joke around, Ivy.” Cypress glared.

“I’m not.” I pointed to a copse of trees off to our left and further down the hill. I set my water bottle aside and stood. I kept my back to the trunk of the large tree and focused my intuition.
What’s out there?
I pushed my abilities out to scan the area. I picked up on laughter, and mischief. I peeked quickly around the trunk and saw a soft blue light shimmer in the trees. I gulped, yanked my head back and sincerely hoped it was students on campus. But the laughter, sense of mischief, and a slight tinkling sound I heard made my blood run cold.
Please don’t be Trooping Fae.
That’s the last thing I wanted to deal with.

Cy climbed to her feet and by unspoken agreement we leaned around the tree trunk together to visually check the area behind us.

Out of the trees below us came a group of people. Their voices were pitched low, and they were talking excitedly back and forth between themselves. I felt my shoulders slump in relief. The blue light was apparently the screen of someone’s cell phone. They climbed up the hill, coming closer and closer to me and Cy, until one of them tripped over a small headstone, making the rest of the group stop and erupt into nervous laughter.

“What the hell was that?” A female voice complained. A light from a cell phone shone on the ground.

“It’s a grave marker for a dog,” someone answered.

The group sailed right past us. No more than twenty feet away from where Cypress and I stood against the tree trunks, effectively camouflaged by the dark shadows. The girls headed straight for the open gate to the cemetery where Victoria Crowly rested.
What in the hell were they up to?
I wondered.
Were they actually going inside of the fenced area?
Sure enough, I saw the flash of a camera phone and the selfie session with the tombstone began.

I shook my head as the camera phone flashes lit up the area in bright strobe effect. Someone was bound to see that.
There was a reason I hadn’t used a flash with any of my photos tonight.
Those idiotic girls could ruin any hope Cypress and I had for a paranormal investigation.
I sighed in frustration. Cypress nudged me and pointed. I whipped my head around at the sound of footsteps coming from the right.

“This area is off limits to students after sunset,” said a loud, annoyed male voice.

There were a few shrieks, as the group of sorority girls all huddled together inside the plot. As one, they squinted against the beam of a Campus Security Officer’s very bright flashlight.

While the security officer berated the group of students, I tugged Cypress down with me to crouch back against the ground. Under the trees it was plenty dark, and we were both wearing dark colors. I hoped neither the guard nor the students would see us. I gave Cypress’ hand a squeeze. “Reluctance,” I said as quietly as possible.

“You don’t see or hear us, we blend right in...” Cypress said under her breath.

“With these words our spell begins,” I whispered the final words and our combined energy pushed out, surrounding us. With some surprise I noticed that the sounds of the girl’s complaining and the officer telling them to move along, were now muffled.
Nice!
As usual, my spell casting worked better when I had a partner.

A few moments later the group of sorority pledges, voicing their disappointment, were herded away from the plot, and back on to the service drive. The officer began shooing them towards Greek Row.

As the girls moved back down the paved road with the officer trailing them, Cypress slowly leaned close to me. “Damn sorority girls,” she breathed in my ear.

I shrugged. “Can’t live with ’em, can’t turn them into newts.”

“I hope the recorder is okay,” Cypress said.

“Let’s wait a few minutes make sure the coast is clear and then go fetch it,” I suggested.

The only thing we did see moving were a few bats flying around the trees snacking on mosquitoes. We released the reluctance a short time later and stood. I tucked the wrappers away, stowed the water bottles, slipped my tote bag over one shoulder, and followed Cypress to the cemetery gate.

“It’s still here,” Cypress said with a sigh of relief.

“Was it still recording?”

I heard a click. Cypress grinned over at me. “Yes, it was.” She tucked the mini recorder in her own bag.

“Good, we can listen to it later. See if we picked up anything other than the pledges and their selfie session.”

Quickly we went back the way we came. Back around the theatre, past Crowly Hall and making the trek clear across campus towards the history building and archeological site. We walked up along the fenced area and gazed down at the excavation. “Wow,” I said. “Look at that.” A large squared off area had been neatly excavated. The light of the full moon lit up the area very nicely, revealing the remains of a stone foundation of a house. “Foundation... Autumn had said the word
foundation
,” I said to Cypress.

Cypress’ eyes popped wide. “That’s right she did.”

My breath hissed out as I took in the remains of an old house. They’ve been really working on it, haven’t they?”

Cypress curled her fingers through the cyclone fence. “You sound surprised. Haven’t you checked on the progress while they’ve been excavating?”

“No.” I shrugged. “I’ve been avoiding walking too close the area. I even asked the campus paper to assign someone else to cover it.”

“Why?”

“I was there the day they found the remains. That was enough for me.” I shivered, and it wasn’t from the cool evening. I pulled some strawberry licorice from my tote and offered a rope of it to Cypress. We stood eating and watching the site for several minutes. Even though nothing seemed out of place, I rolled my shoulders against the tension. “I think we should head back and check the camera and recorder.”

“Agreed. I don’t like how the atmosphere feels over here,” Cypress said, staring down at the remains of the stone foundation. Deliberately she pulled the copper, silver and gold bracelets from her pocket and put them back on. The bangles had belonged to her grandmother. Cypress liked to wear them for protection. “It feels
off
.” She scowled back at the dig. “I wonder why?”