The Sea Witch's Revenge: A Delta & Jax Mystery

By Susan Diamond Riley

What begins as a fun night of sharing ghost stories in a local graveyard soon turns sour when twelve-year-old Delta, her younger brother, Jax, and their friends are falsely accused of vandalizing a historic site on Hilton Head Island. When the siblings start receiving centuries-old messages via a mysterio

• Language: English
• Publisher: Koehler Books
• Release date: Sep 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781646637911

Susan Diamond Riley

Susan Diamond Riley holds a Master of Arts degree in children's literature from the University of North Carolina at Charlotte. She has been a writer, editor, and educator for more than thirty years.

Book preview

Hearing the Tale

The islanders came for the teenage girl in the middle of the night, carrying torches just like in old monster movies. But this story is real and happened right here on Hilton Head Island.

Despite the mid-October humidity, twelve-year-old Delta Wells shivered in the gloom of the old cemetery. She was flanked by her younger brother Jax and their friend Darius, both wide-eyed as they listened to the frightening tale of a girl falsely accused more than 300 years ago. They had begged Darius’ older cousin, Micah, and his friend Ivy to bring them to this creepy site for a night of spooky storytelling. In the deepening darkness, the leaning tombstones seemed to take on gruesome shapes, their carvings eroded by salt air and the ravages of time. As the group sat in a circle around a battery-powered camping lantern that Darius had brought from home, the teen storytellers were not disappointing their rapt audience.

Until she became the Sea Witch, Constance True was just a girl like you or me, Delta, Ivy said solemnly.

"Constance True? So, this is a true story?" Jax asked, laughing at his own joke.

Delta scowled at her brother. Shut it, Jax! You’ll ruin the mood.

As a matter of fact, this story did actually happen, Micah said.

Ivy nodded and continued her tale. Constance grew up here on Hilton Head back in the early 1700s. After her parents died when she was just a baby, she and her grandmother lived alone in a small house by the sea. But as she grew into a teenager, the townspeople started pointing out everything about her that they felt was strange. She had wild, curly hair the color of flames, and she let it fly loose rather than wear it under a cap as was the style of the day. She didn’t bother to dress in fashionable clothes, either, and sometimes had the nerve to go out in public wearing men’s pants!

So, what’s the big deal with that?

"It’s not a big deal now, Jax, but back in the 1700s, it was practically unheard of for proper ladies to wear anything but dresses, Ivy continued. The townspeople were suspicious of how Constance and her granny kept to themselves, not socializing with their neighbors or even going to church on Sundays, which everyone on the island except them always did."

Just because she was different from the others doesn’t make her a witch, Delta said.

"We know that now, Micah said, but the islanders back then were afraid of her differences and thought she must be up to no good."

In the dim light of Darius’s lantern, Delta could see Ivy’s face glow orange as she nodded.

That’s right. They noticed that she spent a lot of time collecting shells and sea plants from the beaches of the island, which she then took home to make what they called ‘evil potions.’

Maybe she was making medicines or something, Darius suggested.

She probably was, Ivy agreed, but the people wanted to believe she was trouble. One morning, some local men saw her combing through the surf during a terrible storm, which they thought was especially weird. They approached her and began taunting her, calling her ‘Sea Witch.’ One man ripped the seaweed she had been gathering out of her hand and threw it into the ocean, while another pushed her down into the surf.

Geez, I’d be mad if I was her, Jax said.

"She was mad, Ivy said. She told those men that she hoped the sea would bring them nothing but pain. Not long after, one of those men went out fishing one day and never returned. His boat washed up empty a couple of days later."

"So she was a witch!"

The islanders sure thought so! They all marched to her house in the middle of the night and carried her out kicking and screaming. When her grandmother tried to help, one of the men knocked the old woman to the ground! By the light of their torches, they dragged Constance down to the beach by her wild red hair and officially accused her of being a witch. After binding her hands and feet with ropes, they set her adrift on the waves in a small boat. As she floated away, she could be heard shouting her final curse to the people of Hilton Head: ‘May the waters around this island bring you misfortune and, when they do, may you hear me laugh.’

Whoa, Darius muttered.

The next morning, a local woman thought she saw Constance through the fog on the beach. Turns out it was a bright red fox combing through the seaweed, but word got around that Constance had returned in the form of a fox. For decades after that, folks around here considered a fox on the beach to be a bad omen. ‘The Sea Witch is getting ready to laugh,’ they’d say. And maybe she was.

Or maybe she was just a teenage girl who dared to be herself, and got murdered for it, Darius said softly.

The group sat quietly for a moment, pondering this horrific thing that had happened on their island home so many years ago. Only the chirping of crickets and the croaking of frogs, unseen in the night, broke the silence. Darius’s lantern flickered briefly before the batteries died and plunged the old cemetery into total darkness. Delta let out a small scream and, instinctively, all five kids reached for those on either side of them.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a white light shone in the middle of their circle. Delta jumped as a disembodied voice called out to her and her friends.

You don’t belong here! the voice declared.

2

Finding the Box

After the scare at the Zion Cemetery, the following morning started out pretty harmless. Delta and Jax were helping Pops sort through an old storage room at the Island History Museum, where he was the director. The museum building itself was actually an old house that had once been the center of a flourishing rice plantation. Up until about 150 years ago, that is. When the Union Army took control of Hilton Head early in the Civil War, all of the wealthy plantation owners had fled the island and abandoned their land—and their slaves. This property had become a regular farm for a while, before eventually being turned into a well-known site for learning about the Lowcountry’s past and present. In addition to the indoor history, nature, and art exhibits, the museum boasted several acres of waterfront hiking trails, native plants and animals, a butterfly house, and classes on everything from indigo tie-dyeing to kayaking through the marsh.

Delta and Jax often spent time at this popular spot now that they were living full time with their grandparents on Hilton Head. The family had all agreed this arrangement would be best for the kids while their mom and dad spent a year tracking meteorites on the steppes of Siberia for Chicago’s Field Museum of Natural History. Delta and Jax admired their parents’ passion for their careers, but they did miss them sometimes. Virtual visits and phone calls helped, but internet connections in northern Russia were spotty and unreliable. Even so, Tootsie and Pops had made their grandkids feel right at home in their house on Hilton Head, and in the few months they’d been living here, Delta and Jax had made friends and grown to truly love their new island home.

The siblings had opted not to tell their grandparents about the encounter at the Zion Cemetery last night, though. Tootsie and Pops knew the teens had shared some ghostly tales, but they had assumed the storytelling happened at Darius’s house. Delta and Jax had not bothered to correct that assumption.

Standing in the musty museum storage room, lit by a single flickering bulb, Delta recalled the shadowy old cemetery. The setting last night had been spectacularly creepy, and the kids had all been spooked by Ivy’s tale of the Sea Witch. Then, of course, the sheriff’s deputy had arrived and nearly scared them to death when he shone his flashlight in their faces.

You kids shouldn’t be hanging out here so late, he’d told them. This site is closed after dark.

It’s alright, Delta explained. I’m Delta Wells. My grandfather runs the Island History Museum, and he hosts events here sometimes.

We’ve been doing Ghostly Tales here for the Fall Festival, Micah added.

Deputy Jones directed his light toward the teenager. Oh, hey there, Micah, he said, recognizing the local high school’s star quarterback. The Fall Festival was yesterday. That doesn’t mean you can be here after dark any old time. Y’all should get on home.

The deputy had led them all back through the maze of crumbling tombstones to the dimly lit gravel parking lot and watched as they climbed into Micah’s old car. Deputy Jones followed them out onto the main road in his official sheriff’s department vehicle, then turned and drove in the opposite direction. Their evening had been cut a bit short, but the deputy had barely even scolded them. So, what was the point of mentioning any of it to Tootsie or Pops?

Whoever’s box this was must have been crazy! Jax laughed.

Crowded into the jam-packed storage room at the museum, Delta glanced over to see her brother holding a wooden chest the size of a large shoe box. Given the faded wood and rusted hinges, it must’ve been around for a very long time.

Why ‘crazy’? Delta asked.

Or angry, Jax replied, pointing to a word scratched crudely into the lid of the box. "See, it says, MAD."

Weird, Delta agreed. I wonder why anyone would have carved that there?

How’s it going in here? Pops called, stepping into the room. What’s that you’ve got there, Jackson? Pops was the only person who ever called Jax by his full name.

Just a crazy old box. Jax laughed, showing his grandfather the letters on the lid.

Pops took the old container and examined it closely, then opened it up and looked inside.

Well, there’s nothing in it. I don’t recall ever seeing it before, but it doesn’t appear to be anything of historical significance. Pops had been a history professor at the University of South Carolina before he retired and took over the museum on Hilton Head. History was kind of his thing.

I know what we ought to do with it, though, he said. Y’all have been leaving stuff scattered all over the house, so let’s take it home as a gathering spot for whatever I find that you’ve neglected to put away. He winked at Delta. They both knew that Jax was the one always leaving his stuff everywhere.

Okay, but can you take it home with you? Delta asked. We’ve got our bikes, and we told Darius we’d stop by his house for a bit. Today was no ordinary Monday. It was the beginning of a weeklong fall break from school, and the friends wanted to plan out how they would spend the free days ahead. Who knew what adventures awaited the trio?

3

Planning the Break

Delta always loved spending time at the McGee house. Darius McGee was the first friend she and Jax had made on Hilton Head this summer, and his family was as welcoming and kind as he was. His dad, Mac, was a history buff like Pops, except he specialized in the culture of his own Native American ancestry. Darius’s mother, Miss Ruby, was a jolly woman, fond of hugs and trying new recipes at her family’s restaurant, The Geechee Grill. She was descended from slaves who had worked cotton, rice, and indigo plantations right here on Hilton Head Island a couple hundred years ago. Darius had explained that when they were freed after the Civil War, these former slaves became known as the Gullah-Geechees. They settled their own land on the island and began to govern themselves. Delta couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to be a slave, owned by someone else and forced to work for them. She wondered how Darius felt about that, but it was an awkward conversation to begin. Many Gullah families still lived on Hilton Head Island, where they continued to share the unique foods, music, art, and even language of their culture.

Hey, y’all! Darius waved as Delta and Jax pulled their bikes into his front yard. His house towered over them, perched on concrete stilts to avoid occasional tidal floods from the marsh on its other side. Across the lawn stood other houses, which Delta knew were homes to some of Miss Ruby’s relatives. In fact, Darius’s older brother lived in one cottage with his wife and five-year-old daughter, Keisha, just steps from the stilted house. Darius had told them it was Gullah tradition for the family land to be shared, and Delta and Jax loved all the people and excitement that always seemed to be happening there.

The siblings parked their bicycles and joined their friend sitting on the steep steps up to his raised front porch.

I’ve got an idea for something we can do during our break this week, Darius told them. We can go visit my pet goat.

You have a pet goat? Jax asked, his eyes wide.

Delta laughed. That’s so random! Why do you have a pet goat?

And why haven’t we ever seen it? Jax added.

Remember, I told you about him, Darius said.

Jax shook his head. Nope. We would definitely remember that.

Darius shrugged. Well, I thought I’d mentioned him. Anyway, his name is Bubba, and my uncle takes care of him over on Daufuskie Island.

Where Honey and Indy used to live? Jax asked. Nowadays Darius’s Marsh Tackies stayed on the grounds of the Island History Museum, where visitors could learn more about this local horse breed that had lived in the area since Spanish settlers brought them over in the late 1500s.

Yep. My goat Bubba is still over there on the community farm. Uncle Rob says we can come over and see him if we want.

How would we get there? Delta asked. She had seen