Ronan, Jude, and Fitz were waiting by the back doors leading to the porch and the sea beyond.
“I’m glad you’re here Fitz. We need you for the spell.” Cope went onto the porch.
“Why do I need to be here?” Fitz asked. “I haven’t got a magical bone in my entire body.”
Jude snorted. “I bet Jace would disagree.”
“Asshole.” Fitz rolled his eyes and headed outside.
“Is this gonna work?” Ronan asked Ten.
“Yes. Cope wrote a spell to keep all three families safe, which is why he was glad Fitz was with you. He knows what he’s doing, so follow along and do what he says, okay?”
“Okay.” Ronan opened the door and was hit with a blast of wind. He took Ten’s hand and pulled him outside.
It was no surprise to Ten that they were the only people on the beach. The wind sandblasted his face and arms. Thankfully, he’d worn jeans and not shorts. Giant waves broke against the shore. Ten wasn’t a meteorologist by any stretch of the word, but he could see Sophie was on their doorstep, ready to rock and roll.
When Ten and Ronan reached the others, they were beachcombing.
“Each of you try to find a small shell that will fit through the mouth of the bottle,” Cope said. He knelt on the beach with his back to the wind and the ocean.
Ten and Ronan quickly found two small snail shells and brought them back to Cope.
“What I need you to do is pass around the bottle. Add your shells and some sand. When the bottle comes back to me, I’m going to read the spell and screw on the cap. Got it?”
There were nods all around. Cope handed the bottle to Jude, who added his shell and some sand. Fitz, Ronan, Everly, and Ten did the same thing. When Ten handed the bottle to Cope, he added his own shell and enough sand to fill the bottle. “I forbid the malignant spirit of Hurricane Pointe to cross our path or toharm our families. We command you to count every seashell in the ocean, count every grain of sand on every beach beside every sea, until the sun rises and shines upon you. Obey my order, evil one!” He screwed the cap onto the jar and set it on the beach, it immediately started rocking back and forth before bouncing into the air.
“I’m guessing that means it worked?” Fitz asked, getting back to his feet and backing away from the bottle, which continued to move.
“It definitely worked,” Cope agreed. “What we need to do now is figure out what to do with the bottle.”
“Throw it in the ocean,” Ronan suggested.
“No way,” Ten said. “With the way this storm is pounding the coast, it’s likely that the bottle will break on the rocks or on the shore when the tide comes back in.”
“Let’s bury it. That way the sun can’t shine on it,” Jude said.
“No! That’s my son!” a voice boomed out of nowhere.
Fitz grabbed Jude’s arm. Both men looked scared to death. It was obvious they’d heard the voice as well.
“Who are you?” Tennyson shouted. “Show yourself!”
An older man appeared on the beach. He was dressed in grey, woolen pants, with a matching greatcoat and black top hat. “Davidson Holbrook, at your service.” He bowed and doffed his hat. “This is my home and that is my son, Henry! I command you to release him at once!”
“Have you been aware of Henry’s behavior toward guests of this hotel? Did you see what he did to my husband this morning?” Ten asked.
The angry look drained from Davidson’s face. “Henry was always a difficult child. He grew into a young man who seemed to have no place in this world. When the war began, he joined the 2ndRhode Island Infantry Unit. I’d never been so proud of my son. It seemed the war changed him overnight. The letters I received from him were upbeat, never once asking to come home. He was promoted after Bull Run. Fell in love with a nurse who was caring for his fellow soldiers. They planned to get married.”
Tennyson knew this was where the story turned darker. “What happened?”
“The nurse sent Henry a letter telling him that she’d married someone else. My son was destroyed. I cautioned him not to let his heart rule his head, but he didn’t listen to me. According to a letter I received from one of Henry’s friends, he fought like a beast at Gettysburg. He was reckless and didn’t seem to care if he was killed, which is what happened on the third day of the battle. July 3, 1863. Henry was twenty years old.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Holbrook. No father should ever lose a child.” Ten meant every word. As Holbrook spoke, he’d been able to feel the man’s pain. It nearly broke Ten. He had no idea how the man carried that burden.
“Thank you. I agree.”
“What we need you to understand is that Henry has been hurting people. Possessing men working at the hotel and assaulting women. He possessed my husband this morning and he came close to harming our daughter. He can’t be allowed to continue this reign of terror.”
