Moonlight Mile (10 page)

The two girls had come straight there from their respective schools, but that didn't leave them much time to search for Serena's name. It was almost three o'clock, and most of the tourist groups that had been there when the girls arrived had already disappeared.

“I should've asked Dad if he knew exactly where Serena's grave is,” Nina muttered as she hurried to the next crypt in line, a modest stone square discolored by moss. “Searching this place could take all night.”

Jordan heard her and glanced over. “Don't even think about it,” she said. “I am so not staying here after dark!”

“I know, I was only kidding,” Nina assured her. She sighed and glanced around again. “I just wish we knew where to look.”

She noticed a man walking down the path nearby.
He'd passed them earlier at the head of a large group of tourists.

“Hey, excuse me,” Nina called out, hurrying toward him. “Are you a tour guide?”

The man peered at her over the tops of his spectacles. “Yes, I am,” he said. “But I've just finished the last tour of the day. The cemetery is closing momentarily.”

“I know.” Nina shot him her most winning smile. “I just have a quick question, if that's okay?”

The man shrugged. “Sure, shoot.”

“Someone told me I have a relative buried here,” Nina said. “Her name was Serena Peralt, and she lived around the time of the Civil War. Do you happen to know where her grave is?”

“Serena Peralt?” The tour guide rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Can't say I recall seeing that name here. Are you sure it's this St. Louis Cemetery? There are two others.”

“Yes, thanks, I know.” Nina bit her lip. “I'm pretty sure it's this one. Are you positive you haven't seen that name?”

“Sorry,” the man replied. “I've been giving tours of this place for ten years, and I know just about every name in here by now. That one doesn't ring a bell.”

“Okay, thanks anyway.” Nina watched the man hurry off toward the exit.

Jordan joined her. “So now what?”

“I don't know.” Nina sighed. “Kim was positive that Serena was in this St. Louis Cemetery. But she said she hadn't seen the grave herself—maybe she's wrong and it's one of the others after all. I can ask my dad if he knows.”

“Okay,” Jordan said. “But listen, in the meantime we're pretty close to that voodoo shop I was telling you about yesterday. Want to check it out? You know . . . just in case?”

“Just in case what?” Nina said. “Just in case I actually start believing in voodoo?”

“Come on,” Jordan wheedled. “If you don't believe in it, then what can it hurt? We can just talk to the owner of the shop—see what she thinks. My neighbor says she's the real deal. Not just someone trying to make a buck off the tourists, but a genuine voodoo priestess, you know?”

Nina couldn't help being intrigued by the thought of
meeting a real voodoo priestess—even if she didn't actually believe in voodoo. Besides, Jordan had been super supportive of her problems, and Nina felt bad for continuing to poo-poo her help.

“What the heck,” she said with a smile. “Like you said, it's worth a try. Lead the way to the voodoo shop.”

A few minutes later they were pushing open the rattling front door of a tiny storefront a couple of blocks outside the French Quarter. The street was dusty and all but abandoned, populated with narrow, shabby shotgun houses and a liquor store and a convenience shop on the corner.

“Nice neighborhood,” Nina said with a snort. “I can't believe the tourists don't come here.”

“If they knew about this place, they would,” Jordan said. “I told you, the woman who owns it is the real thing.”

Nina didn't respond as she followed Jordan into the shop, which smelled of herbs and mildew. The place was just as narrow as every other building on the block, but the ceilings were high, and the packed shelves lining both walls gave the shop a claustrophobic feel. Nina
glanced at the nearest shelf and saw books, candles, voodoo dolls, jars of herbs, and various other items she couldn't identify.

The woman behind the counter glanced up when the girls entered. She was tall and very thin, with high cheekbones, wide-set eyes, and dark skin. Her angular frame was wrapped in a multicolored shawl with a long fringe.

“Welcome,” she said in a deep, sonorous voice with a faint West Indian lilt. “I am Madame Marceline, the proprietor of this shop. How may I assist you young ladies this fine day?”

Nina opened her mouth, ready to tell the woman they were just browsing. But Jordan stepped forward. “Actually,” she said before Nina could speak, “we're looking for information about voodoo, because my friend here thinks her ancestor might be haunting her. . . .”

She went on to tell the woman all about Serena. After a while Nina shrugged and joined in, curious to hear what Madame Marceline might say about the old family legend. If nothing else, it would make a fun story to tell at that night's family dinner.

When they finished, Madame Marceline nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. “Fascinating,” she said, staring at Nina. “It's always enlightening to meet someone with such deep roots in this city. Such deep, interesting roots. So you think this Serena is fixated on you and causing your recent problems, hmm?”

“Well . . .” Nina hesitated, not wanting to lie and say she believed—especially if Madame Marceline herself truly believed in ghosts and voodoo and all the rest. It seemed disrespectful somehow.

Luckily, the woman didn't wait for a response before continuing. “As I see it, you have two options,” she said. “You could of course use evil voodoo to forcibly banish Serena's spirit back to the netherworld. However, since she is your ancestor, you might not wish to use a dark spell on her, in which case you can try to mollify her spirit using the properties of good voodoo.”

Nina didn't believe in either kind of voodoo, but she could tell the woman was waiting for a response. “Good voodoo would be better, I guess,” she told her.

“Yes, I thought you might feel that way.” Madame Marceline stepped over to one of the shelves behind the counter and grabbed something. “In any case, this voodoo doll should take care of it either way. I'll also include a pamphlet with clear instructions for both options, all right? That way, if the good voodoo doesn't work . . .” She let the comment trail off with a rather ominous grimace.

“Um, thanks.” Nina accepted the doll and pamphlet, realizing she couldn't back out now. She shot Jordan an annoyed look when Madame Marceline turned away to ring up the sale. This was definitely not how she'd planned to spend that week's allowance.

Soon she was stepping out of the shop with a small paper bag containing her new voodoo doll and everything she needed to use it. She took a deep breath of the city air, which smelled downright refreshing after the thick atmosphere of the voodoo shop.

“There,” Jordan said as the door swung shut behind them. “Now at least you have something to try, right?”

“Don't be a goof,” Nina said. “I was just being polite
back there. I'm not actually going to try to use voodoo to, like, banish Serena's spirit or whatever.”

Jordan looked disappointed. “Are you sure? Madame Marceline made it sound like it would definitely work.”

“Yeah—
if
the ghost of Serena was real. Which she isn't.” Still, Nina couldn't help a slight shiver as she glanced over her shoulder at the voodoo shop.

None of this is for real,
she told herself.
Is it?

CHAPTER

10

AFTER TAKING THE STREETCAR BACK
to
their neighborhood, Nina and Jordan walked together as far as Coliseum Street, where they usually parted ways to head to their separate homes several blocks apart. When they reached the corner, Jordan glanced at the bag in Nina's hand.

“Seriously, Nina,” she said. “Just think about it, okay? Like I said, if you don't believe anyway, what can it hurt to give it a try?” She paused. “Although it probably works better if you can get yourself to believe at least a little. . . .”

“Whatever,” Nina said. “I'll think about it, okay? See you at the barn tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Jordan said. “I'll be there by like four thirty. Do you think you'll be done at your mom's art show by then?”

Nina nodded. “Definitely. It starts at noon, and she doesn't expect me to hang around all day or anything. See you at four thirty.”

As she walked the rest of the way home, the bag felt heavy in her hand. Should she follow Jordan's advice and try what Madame Marceline had told her to do? If nothing else, it might get Jordan to stop bugging her. . . .

When she stepped into her house, her parents were busy cooking oysters to bring along to that evening's family dinner at Aunt Vi's place. Bastet and Teniers were circling their feet, occasionally letting out a plaintive yowl at the scent of seafood floating through the air.

Nina smiled at the homey family scene, which made the whole idea of ghosts and voodoo seem even more ridiculous than it had before. “Need any help?” she asked.

Her mother glanced at her. “Oh good, you're home,” she said. “We were about to send out a search party.”

“Or at least a sternly worded text,” Nina's father added
with a smile. “Just go get cleaned up and changed—we'll be ready to leave in twenty minutes or so.”

Nina nodded and hurried down the hall to her room. Once she got there, she glanced at the paper bag in her hand, suddenly feeling foolish for even considering that a voodoo doll could solve her problems. She tossed the bag in a drawer, then kicked off her shoes.

Moments later, she'd finished washing her face and hands and changing into shorts and a T-shirt. She dropped her school clothes into the hamper in the bathroom and returned to her room, grabbing her laptop off the desk.

Soon she was logged into the Pony Post and scanning the latest entries. Haley had written something about her pony's latest cross-country jump school over some new obstacles she and her uncle and cousins had built in one of the cow fields, while Maddie had posted a couple of new photos of herself and Cloudy. Nina smiled, peering at a shot of Maddie mugging for the camera as she hugged the palomino pinto mare around the neck. Then she opened a new text box.

[NINA]
Mads, u and C look adorable as always! And Haley, congrats on getting the new jumps built before winter. I hope u can still find them once there's twelve feet of snow on the ground, lol.

She posted that, then opened another box.

[NINA]
But enough about you guys, lol. I'm sure you're dying to hear the latest in the saga of the haunted pony girl . . .

She went on to fill them in on everything that had happened since her last entry, including her fall and the visit to the voodoo shop. She finished with a joking comment about trying the voodoo doll “by the light of the full moon this midnight.”

Once her message posted, she clicked off the site and glanced at the clock. Her parents would be ready to leave soon. Did she have time to start her homework first? The weekend would be awfully busy between her mom's
art-show opening and her planned barn time. . . .

As she was thinking about it, her cell phone rang. Nina's eyes widened when she saw the name on the readout.

“Brooke?” she exclaimed, pressing the phone to her ear. “Is that really you?”

“It's me.” Brooke's voice sounded distant but familiar, even though they'd only spoken on the phone maybe a dozen times ever. “Hi, Nina.”

“Hi!” Nina's face stretched into a grin. “I was just posting on the site.”

“I know, I was just logging on when your message came up,” Brooke said. “That's why I called. But listen, you still have unlimited long distance on your phone, right?”

“Right.” Nina understood immediately. Brooke didn't even have her own cell phone yet—her parents were old-fashioned like that. And she'd mentioned before that the family didn't have a very good long-distance plan on their home phone, since they didn't have many faraway relatives and her father made all his business calls from work. “I'll call you right back,” Nina added.

She hung up and hit Brooke's number, and soon the two of them were connected again. “So anyway,” Brooke said, “I was going to put all this on the Pony Post, but I thought it might be quicker just to tell you. I've been looking into your dad's family tree like I said I would.”

“Cool!” Nina said, flopping onto her bed and leaning back against her pillows. “Find anything good?”

“Well, I did find out that Serena was a real person,” Brooke said. “And you're directly descended from her through your dad and granddad and their ancestors.”

Nina nodded. She'd already known all that. “Thanks for looking into it,” she said, a little disappointed. Since Brooke had gone to all the trouble to call, she'd been expecting something a little more exciting.

“You're welcome.” Brooke hesitated. “But actually, that's not really why I called. Um, I read what you just posted—you know, about the voodoo stuff?”

“I was kidding,” Nina said. “Don't worry, I haven't gone totally nutso.”

“Good.” Brooke sounded relieved. “Because there's really no evidence that Serena's ghost is haunting you, you
know. And you're not usually the type of person to believe in stuff like that.”

For a second, Nina felt annoyed. It was easy for Brooke to say there was no evidence—she was way up there safe and sound in Maryland, while Nina was the one dealing with Serena!

“But I know how easy it is to start believing something you shouldn't,” Brooke continued before Nina could say anything. “I mean, it happened to me, remember?”

“It did?” Nina wrinkled her nose, thinking back over everything Brooke had ever posted. “You believed in ghosts?”

Brooke giggled. “Not ghosts,” she said. Her voice went serious again. “But remember how I almost psyched myself out of staying at horse camp over the summer?”

“Yeah.” Nina remembered that clearly. “You thought you and Foxy weren't good enough to ride with those snooty rich girls. Which was totally not the case, by the way.”

“I know. You and Maddie and Haley helped me see that, and I ended up having a great time and made some
incredible new friends,” Brooke said. “But it's lucky I had you guys to talk sense into me, you know? Because at the beginning I was sure it wasn't going to work out, and once you start thinking that way, it can be really hard to stop.” She hesitated again. “I'm worried that you might be doing that now.”

“Oh.” Nina sank down onto the edge of her bed and thought about that. Was Brooke right? Was she psyching herself out, blaming Serena for everything bad that ­happened?

Just then she heard her mother calling her name from the front of the house. Glancing at the clock, she realized it was time to leave for dinner.

“Listen, I have to go,” she told Brooke. “My parents are waiting for me. But I'm really glad you called. You gave me lots to think about. Thanks.”

“You're welcome,” Brooke said. “Let me know what happens.”

“You know I will.” Nina said good-bye and hung up, hurrying for the door as her name rang through the house again.

Nina glanced at her wrist as she hurried into Cypress Trail Stables the next morning. Realizing she'd forgotten to put her watch on after her shower, she checked the barn's big, old-fashioned wall clock instead. Today was the grand opening of her mother's art show, but the gallery didn't open until noon. Even though Nina was already planning to head to the barn later for her ride with Jordan, she'd decided to come over and hand-graze Breezy for a few minutes. Living in tight city quarters, the pony didn't get as much time outside in the paddocks as Nina would have liked, so she tried to take him out for some grass as often as she could.

“Here I come, Breeze-man,” she sang out as she hurried down the aisle toward her pony's stall. “Ready for a little of the green stuff? We won't have much time out there, but I know you'll—”

She cut herself off, stopping short in the doorway. The stall was empty.

“Breezy?” she said, glancing around as if expecting the pony to jump out of a shadowy corner. “Where are you?”

There was a clatter from around the corner of the aisle, and a moment later a wheelbarrow came into view. A barn worker, a young woman named Jane, was pushing it. She stopped when she saw Nina's face.

“Something wrong, Nina?” she said.

“Is Breezy out in a paddock?” Nina asked, realizing that had to be the answer. “Sorry for freaking out; it's just I know usually everyone stays in on Saturday mornings because of lessons, and—”

“That's right.” Jane cut her off. “All the horses are in right now.”

“They are?” Nina shot another look at Breezy's unoccupied stall, half expecting to see him looking out at her. “Um, Breezy's not in his stall.”

“Oh.” The young woman stepped over and looked into the stall. “That's odd. You don't think someone accidentally took him out to use in a lesson, do you?”

“He doesn't really look like any of the lesson horses,” Nina said. “Maybe there's a new student who doesn't know any better, though—I'll check the rings. Thanks.”

She rushed off before Jane could answer. There was
a big group lesson going on in the main ring, but it only took Nina a second to scan the horses and see that her pony wasn't among them. She turned and headed for the smaller ring. Miss Adaline was in there teaching a private lesson—a middle-aged woman on a large draft-cross mare who lived across the aisle from Breezy.

Nina clutched the rail, staring at the mare and trying not to panic. Miss Adaline noticed her and called for her student to halt.

“What's up, Nina?” the instructor asked, hurrying over. “Do you need me?”

“It's Breezy,” Nina blurted out. “He's missing!”

“Missing?” Miss Adaline's forehead wrinkled beneath its fringe of dreads. “What are you talking about?”

“He's not in his stall. He's not in the big ring. And Jane says he's not in the paddocks.”

Miss Adaline shrugged. “Well, he must be somewhere,” she said. “Someone would have called us if there was a loose pony wandering the park. Maybe someone moved him to clean his stall.”

Nina hadn't thought about that. Sometimes the stall
cleaners shifted the horses around to make it easier to muck out the stalls.

“Thanks, that's probably it,” she said with relief. “I'll check the stalls near his.”