Devil On a Hot Tin Roof by Renee George

Author:Renee George
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Renee George

9

We met Eliza, Olivia, David, Ray, and Frank at The Castaway Pub and Grill for an early supper. I tabled the love conversation between Jared and I. It was ridiculous to think he could possibly love me enough to put his soul in jeopardy. And while a silly part of me hoped it was true, the practical part of me prayed it was a flight of fancy. A young man’s sexual desire turning his brain to mush. I know my brain felt a little squishy around him.

We sat quietly out on the restaurant’s deck, overlooking the Table Rock Lake, until after the waitress took our orders and brought us our drinks. The Branson area was part of the Missouri Bible belt, and I didn’t want any of the fine folk in the diner having palpitations over our discourse.

Ray started the conversation. “I found some interesting texts related to the Keys of Solomon. I believe that it takes the magic of a necromancer to capture a soul the way the artifact you’re wearing has done.”

Eliza pressed her hand to her chest. “Necromancer? You mean, like the someone who raises the dead?”

“It’s a loose interpretation,” Liv said. “In Biblical terms, necromancer, magician, diviner, sorcerer, and other such names have all been used to describe those who do unearthly magic.”

“That’s usually true,” Ray said, “but in this case, I think the texts refer to an actual necromancer.”

“Aloysius is a lot of things, but I he could barely raise himself out of bed most days. I doubt if he could raise the dead.”

“I agree,” Ray said. He stared meaningfully at Jared. “I believe you are what the ancients called an Ashshaph.”

Eliza snorted some of her soda out her nose. “An asshat?”

Frank handed her a napkin. “Pull yourself together, girl.”

Eliza blew her nose. I cringed. “Sorry, Ray. Carry on,” she said.

He smiled. Ray had a sweet spot for Eliza. What my sister lacked in decorum, she made up for in wit and bravery. Other than tight spaces, I’d never seen my sister afraid of anything, least of all, what people might think of her. I wish I had been born with a tenth of her lack of shame.

“I’m not an ashy-whatever or a necromancer or a mage. Believe, me, I’ve loved magic for over half my life. If I could perform real tricks, I would have.”

“I believe that your bloodline has to have a catalyst to activate your abilities.”

Jared shook his head and sipped his tea as he considered Ray’s words. “Nope. I’m sorry. If you are saying that my magic put Al in the medal around my neck, then it’s already been activated. So why haven’t I performed any other magical feats?”

“I believe Aloysius harnessed your magic with his knowledge of how the keys work.”

“How?” Jared asked. I watched him absently touch the amulet.

“When he died, did you do any kind of ceremony?”

“Yes, I performed the wand breaking ceremony at his funeral. It includes saying a few words and breaking a wand. He’d asked me to do it before he died.

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