Beneath An Ivy Moon (Legacy Of Magick Series, Book 4) (2 page)

Cypress hopped up and grabbed her purse. “Let’s go then.”

We locked our door and headed down the steps and towards the main lobby of the building. Our dorm, Crowly Hall, had been redecorated several years ago, but the building itself dated back to 1857. The columned, brick, three story dormitory was the oldest building on campus. It boasted three cozy floors of dorm rooms for women. It was the smallest of all of the dorms, and oddly enough it was never full. While Crowly Hall maintained its historical charm, and was centrally located on campus— it was also rumored to be haunted. Hence the lack of volunteers to actually live in the dorm.

We jogged down the steps to the lobby and stopped for a moment while Cypress went through her routine of hunting for her car keys inside of her voluminous purse. A murmur of conversations came from the scattering of residents hanging out or studying in the lounge. I noted that the residence advisor, Leann, was giving a lecture on the history of the building to a half dozen new residents.

“Before it was a university,” Leann said, gesturing to the portrait centered above the fireplace mantle, “Victoria Crowly was the creator of what was originally a finishing school for young ladies. In the 1850s her school became a college for women, the first west of the Mississippi River. Today, William’s Ford is a full university with undergrad, Masters, and Doctorate programs.” Leann paused and measured her audience. “But it all began here with this one woman in this very building, and her dream of creating a school for girls almost two hundred years ago.”

Leann continued with the history and architecture of Crowly Hall itself. I tried to see the lounge through the eyes of our newest residents. Someone— probably a frustrated interior design student— had tried to redecorate our lounge in a pseudo Victorian-era style, and the current results were hit and miss. A faux-leather settee faced the fireplace. On either end of the mantle, huge, fussy silk arrangements of flowers were arranged in white ceramic vases. Fancy chairs of dark wood with their seats covered in burgundy velour fabric were arranged around a large, carved wooden table. The wine-red area rug was centered over floors stained in a deep dark brown. The room seemed out of time, and in my opinion, too prim and proper.

My gaze was pulled to the old portrait. Victoria Crowly smiled down on the residents of the hall. To me, the dark-eyed brunette looked like she was forever keeping a secret. Maybe I was supernaturally suspicious— but despite the woman’s admirable history, I still didn’t like her expression. It creeped me out.

“Tell them about the ghost, Leann,” I suggested, grinning when Leann scowled at me, and the new residents all gasped in unison.

“A ghost?” one girl piped up.

“Really?” someone else said.

Leann attempted to calm her group. “According to local legend, it is Victoria’s ghost that is rumored to guard over the Hall. There are dozens of stories from the ridiculous to the disturbing about her ghostly visitations over the years. It’s campus legend and nothing more,” she stated firmly.

I shrugged off Leann’s disapproval. Personally, I felt the tales of a haunting at my dorm only added to the atmosphere, but sometimes I wondered if Cy’s unique blend of witchy Hoodoo combined with my magick kept Victoria’s ghost at bay. So far neither Cypress nor I had seen anything, but we both had heard noises at night coming from the attic above our room. A constantly locked, empty attic.

Studying the portrait, I shrugged and told myself not to look for trouble where there was none. Truth be told, ghosts didn’t scare me. I’d seen and interacted with my Grandmother’s ghost back at the family manor.
Ghosts I could handle.

While Cypress continued to search for her car keys, I noticed one of the new residents gazing up at the glass encased painting. As I watched, she took out her cell phone and snapped a picture of the old faded portrait. I nudged Cypress. “Check that out,” I said, tilting my head towards the new resident. I was pretty sure her name was Jessica, and she changed angles and took another photo.
She’d never get a decent photo with a cell phone camera. She has to compensate for the glare of the glass and the lighting in the room...
I grinned at my photography geek’s inner monologue.

Cypress shook her purse. She scowled when she heard her keys jingle. “I swear my keys are always disappearing in this thing.”

“Try the outside pocket,” I suggested, staring again at that portrait.

The house phone began to ring. Since I was the closest to the desk in the foyer, I grabbed the landline. “Crowly Hall henhouse. Which chick would you like to speak to?”

“Ivy!” Leann glared at me.

“Hang on,” I said to the person on the phone. I grinned at Leann. “It’s for you.”

Leann scowled. “How many times do I have to tell you
not
to answer the phone like that?”

“Oh at least a dozen more,” I said, as she stomped over and snatched the receiver away from me.

The girls from the group were all smiling now as they waited in the foyer. “Welcome to Crowly Hall,” I said formally, and sketched a bow.

Cypress finally found her keys. Right where I told her to look, in the outside pocket. “Ah-ha!” she cried.

“You’re welcome,” I said to Cypress, watching Jessica as she kept trying to get a good picture. My gaze shifted from Jessica, then back to the portrait. I shivered.

Cypress finally pulled her keys out of her purse and tugged me along with her out the front doors. We walked out across the columned porch, down the steps, and to the nearby parking lot.

“So, I was wondering... have you felt anything
unusual
on campus lately?” I asked climbing into Cypress’ silver VW Beetle.

“Define
unusual
.” Cypress started the car. “We live in the haunted dorm— and we’re both Witches.”

“Point taken.” I stuck my sunglasses on my nose. Still,” I said. “I sensed something today. A negative energy of sorts. It started as soon as I stepped out of the library.”

Cypress flipped on the A/C, glancing over at me. “You didn’t pick up on it when you were
in
the library, but once you were outside?”

“Right.”

Cypress pursed her lips as she thought it over. “Well it only makes sense that your brother would keep the library energetically clean.” She pulled to the exit of the parking lot and stopped. “What were your first intuitive impressions? Did the energy feel sour; was it negative, or malevolent?”

I tucked my hair behind my ears. “It made my heart jump in my chest. Whatever it is— it’s gaining strength, and rising.”

“Rising?” Cypress repeated.

I frowned. “Yeah,
rising
was the word that popped into my mind.”

“Weird choice of words.” Cypress tilted her head. “Think you could follow the energetic trail?”

I nodded. “Sure, I can follow it.”

“I’ll drive by the library building. Let’s see what you pick up with your claircognizance.” Cypress turned the car and drove slowly along the main campus drive.

I shut my eyes and focused on my solar plexus and waited for that tugging sensation that would tell me I was close. Being a psychic intuitive, or more correctly a claircognizant, had its advantages. What many non-magickal folks would dismiss as a ‘gut hunch’— is actually their intuition. It’s a strong psychic ability, and everyone has it to some degree. But many people choose to ignore it. As a Witch, I not only accepted it, I put my psychic abilities to work.

A few moments later I felt my stomach roll over. “Got it,” I said.

Cypress slowed the car to a stop. “We’re at the little intersection before the library.”

I opened my eyes. “Hang a right,” I said.

My stomach tightened even more as Cypress turned right, and we cruised along. When we approached the campus building that housed the local history museum, my heart started to trip faster in my chest.

“Isn’t this the building Autumn works in?” Cypress asked.

“Yeah, it is.” I swallowed. “It’s also where Julian Drake works.”
Had he fallen off the wagon and was practicing dark magick again?

“Are you okay?” Cypress reached over and gave my hand a squeeze.

I glanced over at her. I’d once had an up-close and personal encounter with Julian Drake. And even though he’d been on his best behavior for the past couple of years, I still didn’t like him. “I’m fine. No worries.”

Cypress pulled into the lot and parked. “Let’s get out and walk around.” Her face was set, and her eyes were intense.

We met at the front of the car and fell into step together. I glanced over at her, and
knew
. “You’re feeling it too, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Yeah, like my skin is crawling,” Cypress whispered to me as we passed a group of students leaving the building.

The energetic tug was stronger as we walked around the side of the museum. We followed the path through the museum’s little garden, and even thought the trees were lush and green and their leaves waved in the breeze, it was conspicuously cooler. I shuddered. “It’s stronger over here.”

“But what’s causing it?” Cypress said.

I stopped dead in my tracks. Adjacent to the history building a large area had recently been fenced off. Bulldozers and trucks were all neatly lined up. “They must have started on the expansion of the museum. Autumn’s been talking about this for months,” I said, inspecting the beginnings of the project. Grass had been scraped off, and a stand of scraggly old trees had been removed. I actively wished for my camera.

As we looked over the job site there were other students also checking out the changes to the campus. Cypress nudged me. “Let’s get closer.” We stopped right in front of the fence. “Aww, they bulldozed all of the apple trees,” she said, pointing.

I frowned at the tangle of bulldozed trees. I could see a few apples still hanging on the fallen branches. “I loved those trees,” I said. “They were so old and gnarly.”

“We’ve been snitching yellow apples from them for the past two years,” Cypress sighed. “I’m going to miss that.”

I tipped my head up and checked the sky. We were facing west, and the setting sun painted the clouds in a rosy hue. “West,” I murmured. “Earlier I had felt pulled towards the west.”

“You also said that whatever it was, that it was
rising
.” Cypress curled her fingers through the tall cyclone fence as she considered it.

The hair rose off the back of my neck. “I really want to talk to Autumn, and see if she’s noticed anything.” I stepped back. “Let’s go.”

Cypress nodded, and we silently walked back to the parking lot. So now I knew where it was coming from. But I still had no idea what
it
was.

***

Cypress whipped her car across town to the manor. The tall wrought iron gates at the end of the manor’s driveway swung closed behind us as she pulled in. She slammed her car door and came over to loop her arm through mine. “Let’s go get dinner and see what we can find out.”

“Ready for a nice quiet evening with the Bishops?” I teased, tucking my sunglasses on top of my head.

I barely got the front door of the manor opened when my little nephew Morgan came barreling towards me and Cypress.

“I—ee!” he squealed, in his toddler speak version of my name.

I caught him before he overbalanced onto his face. “Hey Morgan!” I swung him up to my hip, and pressed a loud smacking kiss to his mouth.

“Hi!” he shouted, all smiles.

“Hi cutie,” Cypress ran a hand over his bright red hair.

“Cy!” Morgan puckered up his lips in her direction.

Laughing, Cypress obliged him, and I saw Bran standing in the foyer. “It’s the funniest thing...” he said. “Morgan started shouting your names about five minutes ago.”

Cypress and I walked over to my brother. “Really?” I asked.

“Yeah, he kept running around the manor, like he was looking for the both of you.” Still dressed in his conservative dark suit and tie, Bran rubbed a hand across his chin.

“Maybe he
saw
us coming.” I shrugged.

Bran’s eyes went sharp as he considered it. “Morgan’s only two years old. He’s a little young to be displaying any magickal abilities.”

Autumn popped in from the family room. “Or maybe he takes after me, and is a Seer,” she said.

Morgan snuggled his head under my chin. “My I—ee.” He wrapped his little arms around me and sighed.

“Say, Ivy,” Bran said to his son. “Try and say it.”

Morgan pulled back to look me square in the eye. His blue eyes twinkled. “Ivy,” he said slowly.

“You got it, little dude!” I gave him a hug.

Morgan squirmed and I set him down. He grinned up at his father and pointed, “Dude,” he said clearly.

“Daddy,” Bran corrected, while I struggled not to laugh.

Morgan pointed at Cypress. “Cy,” he said clearly. He pointed at me. “Ivy,” he pronounced it carefully. He stopped and grinned over at Autumn. “Tum!” He laughed and ran out of the foyer towards the back of the house.

I grinned over at my brother. “Obviously, the child is a genius.”

There was a crash coming from the back of the house and Bran cringed. “An evil genius, maybe.” He went to see what Morgan had gotten into.

“Hello girls.” Great Aunt Faye popped her head from around the kitchen and into the family room. “I’ll have dinner ready in fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks,” I said, and she nodded and went back into the kitchen. Knowing my great aunt’s preference to be left alone when she was cooking, I didn’t offer to help.

Autumn beckoned Cypress and I into the family room. “What really brings you girls by?” She dropped onto the big oversized chair, tossing her shoulder length hair behind her.

I sat on the couch, propped up my feet on the coffee table, and sighed loudly. “Maybe we wanted some home cooking?” I said.

Autumn raised an eyebrow at me. Our eyes, almost identical shades of green, locked. I felt a little pull from her mind. “Ivy,” she warned me in a soft voice.

I fluttered my lashes. “Perhaps, I missed the love and comfort of my quiet little family...” My dramatic comment had Cypress rolling her eyes, and as Bran chased a happily squealing Morgan through the foyer, she snorted out a laugh.