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they ’ d think of her. Off to jail she ’ d go! She held no interest in being the crazy pervert from New York City who enjoyed getting naked with dead people. More so, if Stephanie could see her now—oh, she ’ d be laughing her ass off.
    To get the show on the road, Cassie held the stick tight in her hand and hit the tombstone three times, then repeated what Christine had told her.
    The graveyard sat all too quiet—eerie. Ignoring the flickers of fear, she grabbed the other bottle of rum and placed it where she thought the foot of the grave would be. With the stick still in her hand, she hit the ground three times and said again, “Ethan Thomas, Major 66th Regiment, Georgia Volunteers, Confederate States Army. Killed in battle near Atlanta, Georgia, July 22, 1864. Aged 25 years . Come to me.”
    Nothing happened, which didn ’ t surprise her. Christine said she had to follow her instructions exactly. Continuing on, she reached down and opened the first bottle of rum and held the cap in her hand. Crap, she hadn ’ t thought to ask if she should take the cap with her or leave it behind.
    After mulling it over, she decided to leave it. It seemed like the right choice. Everything else stayed, it should too. She placed it on the ground next to the bottle and approached the first bottle. There, she opened it and again left the cap, leaving the stick of spiritweed beside it. Without a word, she turned around, said a little prayer to herself and walked toward Christine who waited on the other side of the cemetery.
    She never looked back, but wanted too. Would Ethan be standing there? Would he be waiting for her? How she wanted him to be there.
    Christine held out her clothes, and Cassie re-dressed in haste. After she put her shoes back on, she asked, “Is he there?”
    “No.” Christine ’ s gaze stayed trained on the graved behind Cassie.
    “What do you mean?” How could he not be there? She ’ d followed Christine ’ s instructions by the book. He had to be there.
    “I ’ m not sure.” Christine looked away from the grave and met her gaze again. “I ’ ve seen the spell done before and it worked.” A soft expression crossed her face as she raised her hand to Cassie ’ s shoulder. “I ’ m sorry.”
    Cassie ’ s heart fell into the pit of her stomach. Her throat tightened as a lump formed there. “How can that be though? I did it all like you said.”
    “You did.” Christine offered with sad eyes. “But it doesn ’ t always work. Ethan held the choice to come forward. If he didn ’ t take it, there ’ s nothing you can do.”
    Thoughts crowded Cassie ’ s mind. Why wouldn ’ t he take it? He said he wanted help and now she held no power. Forever gone. Her heart crumpled to pieces.
    * * *
     
    The ride back to the house took longer than it had on the way there, because Cassie just couldn ’ t find it within her to rush home. She had failed. Part of her stayed angry Ethan hadn ’ t done his part. Geesh, she got naked in a cemetery and did a weird ritual to call him forward.
    Yet, he didn ’ t grab hold of it.
    Annoyance filled her, causing her jaw to clench and muscles bunch with frustration.
    Driving down West Park Avenue in the Historical District of Savannah the sensations grew. A few houses down, the Landsby house appeared. Red paint decorated the front with the wood trimming shinning with freshly applied white wash. A full wraparound porch sat out front, while Washingtonian palms and colorful flowers gave the home beautiful curb appeal. Pride resided in her the job well done, though now, she couldn ’ t find anything to be happy about.
    She parked the car next to the house, cut the ignition and got out. Confusion ra ked her mind. Hours ago she had a purpose¯save Ethan from his current predicament. He wanted the help, asked for it. Now, she didn ’ t know what to think and was irritated by the lengths she went to help him.
    At the front stairs, she climbed them and stopped at the door.