The Ultimate Seven Sisters Collection

by M. L. Bullock

  “Hannah, come up here for a minute and let me come help the doctor. You stand right here and wipe her mouth when she needs it. And talk to her kindly. Help her remember who she is and what she is doing. We need her to push that baby out, or the doctor here might have to cut her open.”

  Hooney’s voice was dead serious, and I didn’t want that to happen to Miss Christine. She had been a nice lady. She’d given me a new cotton dress and apron when I got here. She’d even made sure that I found a pair of secondhand shoes that fit me well.

  “Miss Christine, please wake up.” Hannah patted my face with her hand and suddenly….

  I wasn’t Hannah anymore. How weird was this? My gift was changing, and I didn’t understand it at all.

  Now I was Christine.

  I feel warm, like I have too many clothes on. Oh, to be alone and naked with Hoyt! I would take a thousand beatings for him. How I love that man! When will I see him again? Look! There’s our daughter! There’s Calpurnia, over there in the corner. Why does she look so sad? Don’t cry, Callie. I have something for you. I know you will find it.

  I wrote you a note, dearest. “Find your True Self, and you will Find a Treasure.” I hope you understand. You are our treasured daughter, our daughter. I wish I could tell you…

  Oh…why does my stomach hurt so badly? I scream and scream and scream, but nobody hears me. Whose dark face is that leaning over me? I want Ann-Sheila! Where is my friend? No, she’s gone. Like Louis.

  Louis! Louie! Come back to me!

  Look, there’s baby Calpurnia trying to walk in her new shoes. How proud I am! My daughter! How she would hate me if she knew my secret! Oh, the pain is excruciating! Why can’t someone see that I am in pain?

  My Mother used to say that pain was proof that you were alive. That pain was essential for living. Once we stopped hurting, we stopped living. I want you now, Mother! How you would disapprove of Hoyt and me, but he is a good man! I married the man Father wanted me to marry, and see what it has brought me? Nothing but sadness and ruin. Mother, Mother, please don’t go. Take me with you.

  I try to sit up and follow her, but she leaves the room, a swirl of blue silk behind her.

  I see another face now…Isla! NO! NO! Get her away from me! So much like Olivia but so evil! She is my tormentor. The things she told me! I feel the darkness surrounding me!

  The lies! Oh the lies she tells me, Louis! My beautiful brother! It cannot be true!

  Hoyt! Hoyt! I hear your voice. Help me, please, my love! My own darling! Help me. Please watch over our children. They need you—I need you. Maybe the day will come when you and I can be together truly. How I long for that day. No more sneaking to the cottage, hoping and praying that no one catches us! I would do it all again, all for love, all for my family!

  What lovely roses! Who so kindly brought me roses? May I smell them? Bring them closer.

  Again, the dark-faced girl is leaning over me. I barely see her smile as she shows me a baby. Is that Calpurnia? I feel a surge of wetness between my legs, but the pain has gone. What has happened? The room has darkened! It is too dark, and I hear voices that I cannot understand.

  No, the voices have stopped. All is quiet. All is quiet. A little rest now…

  What is that sound? It is the sound of thunder—it is Jeremiah! Make him leave, Hoyt! You do not know how he beats me. How he hurts me. If only you could hear me. Where am I?

  I am coming, Calpurnia. My child is crying. Mother is coming now!

  Hannah wiped at Christine’s face again.

  Wait…Christine saw me! I saw her look at me! She saw me! Who are you? her mind asked. Her face did not move.

  I am a friend, Christine. I am here to help you.

  Are you an angel? Are you here to take me to heaven?

  My heart melted in my chest. How could this be happening? She couldn’t really see me, could she?

  Before I could answer her, I was Hannah again.

  “Get that baby out of my sight!”

  I winced at the master’s anger. He would never hit me with his leather strap, but he had beaten many others at Seven Sisters. He leaned over the bed and yelled at Miss Christine, who could not hear him. I muffled a cry as I watched him.

  “You were supposed to get me a son, wife! Not another daughter! A son! You have failed me for the last time! Everyone out!”

  The doctor stood to face him, his face wet with sweat or tears or both. “No, sir, I shall not leave my patient, even if you beat me with an inch of my life. Your wife has wounds that will kill her if we leave them like this. I will not allow you to harm her!”

  “Damn you too, Page! You nosy bastard! Always here sniffing around, sniffing at the skirts in this house. You do what you have to do, then you get out of here. Or I will call the sheriff to come and drag you out. You forget your place, sir.”

  “On the contrary, I forget nothing.” Dr. Page stood up and tossed a bloody cloth to the ground, his hands clenched in angry fists.

  With a grunt of disapproval, the master left us alone, at least for a little while. The doctor finished his ministrations but lingered at Miss Christine’s bedside. He held her hand and spoke to her quietly, but the missus never looked his way. I thought maybe I saw a hint of a smile on her face, and then nothing but emptiness. Hooney stood on the other side of the bed, sniffing and wiping tears from her face. She whispered prayers, the kind of prayers the missus often said, and made the sign of the cross.

  The doctor gave Hooney instructions on how often to give the medicine he was leaving. “I shall be back in the morning to see her. These drops will only help with the pain, nothing else. She needs to be in a hospital. I’ll see what I can do to make that happen. In the meantime, you keep him away from her.”

  “I don’t know who can stop him if he means to get to her. All we can do is pray.”

  “Well, don’t defy him, but at least send for me. Surely you can do that. I will not stand by while he kills his wife. The lady needs to rest if she’s ever to come out of her sickness.”

  Hooney promised and put the sleeping baby in my arms. I peered down at her face: she was peaceful, unaware that her Daddy was evil and that her Momma had lost her mind. I wondered what kind of life she would have.

  A few hours later, the doctor was long gone and the master was deep into a bottle of corn whiskey. He came staggering back up the stairs, yelling for his wife. Instead, he found me in the nursery with his baby daughter. “That baby is dead,” he growled, wavering on his feet.

  “What? No, sir. She’s not dead—she’s sleeping like an angel. She is a beautiful little girl.” I smiled, but my insides were frightened and my alarm was screaming at me to run.

  “I don’t think you heard me right, girl. That baby is dead. You hear me? Dead! Now get rid of it. I don’t want no dead baby around here stinking up the place.”

  I stared at him, blinking wildly. What should I do?

  Mr. Cottonwood cast an evil grin. “Want me to show you it’s dead?” He reeled toward me but I stepped back, avoiding his snatch easily. The baby began to stir and fuss.

  “No! Please! I understand, sir! This baby is dead. I will get rid of it right now.” I ran out of the room before he could change his mind. The master shouted something at me, but I moved too quickly to hear but a few words. “Oh Lord, Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Help me!” I whispered as I practically flew down the stairs and out the front door.

  “That baby is dead, you hear me!”

  I cried as I ran, and Hooney ran after me. “Wait, Hannah! Where you going?” I paused, but only for a moment. I wept as I told her what happened.

  “Did you hear him, Hooney? He says this baby is dead. I think he is going to kill her.”

  “Nothing you can do but take that baby away. The master says that baby is dead, it’s dead. Take her somewhere where he can’t harm her. I know where you should go—to the doctor! Quick, go now! Follow the road until it forks, then go left like you’re going to town. It’s the yellow house with the green w
indows! Go, Hannah!”

  The master yelled again, and his voice sounded closer and closer. Oh Lord, he’s like the devil chasing me! What will he do to us if he finds us, baby child?

  The rain began to fall, but I did not let that slow me. I kept my eyes slitted against the raindrops as I flew down the red clay road. I had to get the baby to a safe place. I had to, for Miss Christine! Imagine someone wanting to kill an innocent baby!

  Not tonight. Not if I had anything to say about it!

  Chapter 7

  “CJ—Carrie Jo! Wake up! Carrie Jo! Now!” Detra Ann’s concerned face hovered over me as she roughly shook my shoulders. “Hey, are you with me, girl?”

  “What? Is everything okay? Was I talking in my sleep?”

  “Try screaming! You almost gave me a heart attack,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I thought the boogeyman was chasing you and…” her voice dropped to a whisper, “I thought I heard something downstairs.”

  Her cool hands grabbed mine, and I could see in the dim light that her eyes were wide and fearful.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. Just me scaring up some nightmares. I apologize, Detra Ann. Let’s try to get some sleep. I’ll keep quiet now, I promise.”

  She nodded but didn’t move. She was convinced she’d heard something. I glanced at my watch; it was 4:30. We remained quiet, holding hands, waiting for any sound. I felt the hair on my arm prickle up in alarm and anticipation. Yep, something or someone was with us at Seven Sisters.

  After a minute, I asked in a whisper, “What did it sound like?”

  “Kind of like…” Before Detra Ann could answer, I heard a loud thump coming from the bottom floor. “Like that!” The willowy blonde froze, unsure what to do.

  “I heard it too this time.” The thump was a footstep. Someone was walking—no, stomping—up the wooden staircase. Stomp, shuffle, stomp, shuffle…

  “What do we do?”

  I slung the covers off and ran to the door as quietly as I could. Yes, I had set the lock, but I was not leaving anything to chance. “Hand me that wooden chair!” Detra Ann did as I asked, and I slid the chair under the doorknob hoping that would protect us.

  Stomp, shuffle, stomp.

  “Is that Ashland? Is this some kind of joke?”

  “What? No!” I whispered furiously. “He doesn’t even know we’re here—nobody does!” The stomping continued, and the sound was very close to us now.

  “Oh my God! It’s at the top of the stairs now! What do we do?” Detra Ann was nearly in tears.

  I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and dragged her by the hand to the far corner of the room, nearest the window. It was too late to call anyone—the intruder was here with us. The fear mounted as the stomps sounded louder and more threatening. Suddenly, the sound stopped, and I squeezed Detra Ann’s hand as fiercely as she squeezed mine. I watched in terror as the doorknob began to turn ever so slowly. I heard Detra Ann gasp. The doorknob turned easily now, more quickly. I was just about ready to call out, to scare away whoever stood outside the door, when I heard a voice growl, “Christine!” I knew that voice—it was Jeremiah Cottonwood! There would be no reasoning with him—not in this life or any other.

  “Oh, hell!” I began to pat the wall frantically. I shoved the phone in the pocket of my pajama pants and searched in the near dark.

  “What are you doing?” Detra Ann exclaimed, nearly frightened out of her mind.

  “Looking for a door! There has to be a way out of here!”

  “There is! Move that picture!”

  I lifted the heavy-framed picture off the wall and set it on the floor. The ridge was discernible now, but only barely.

  “Christine!” the voice insisted, angry that he could be denied access. The doorknob continued to rattle until the door opened a tiny bit. I heard the wooden chair crack and creak. The phantom paused his assault, and it seemed I could hear him breathing. But that can’t be true! He can’t breathe! He’s been dead for over a hundred and fifty years!

  “Here!” Detra Ann pushed on the corner of the hidden door, and the latch gave way. A small door, just big enough for one person at a time to fit through opened, and she scurried through. I climbed in behind her, closing the door furiously just in time to hear Christine’s bedroom door, the chair or both splinter behind us.

  “Run, Detra Ann!” I yelled at her.

  I heard her sob, “I can’t see!”

  I stepped in front of her. “It’s okay. I have my phone. Follow me.” We began to move quickly. The dust under my feet felt sticky and thick. I held her hand and turned on the flashlight app on my phone so we could work through the stuffy labyrinth. Finally, we came to a short set of stairs. We almost fell down them, but we managed to control our fear long enough to get downstairs without killing ourselves.

  Above us, we could hear the stomping grow louder. Thank God, the malevolent ghost of Jeremiah wasn’t in here with us. Detra Ann sobbed again, and I tried to comfort her. “It’s okay, I promise. We’ll be out of here soon.”

  “If we leave our hiding spot, won’t we still be in the house with that thing?”

  “Just stay close.” At some point during our frantic escape, I hit my mouth. My lip felt swollen, and I could taste blood. Still, I was alive—we were alive! The air smelled stale, but I forced myself to breathe as normally as I could. We walked past another hidden door; I could see an unearthly light shining from behind it. I thought about pushing it open, but a fleeting shadow passed across the light. Nope! Not this one! I couldn’t tell where we were—probably somewhere behind the dining hall wall. In the distance, I could hear what sounded like a piano crash and the furious stomping became louder, so loud that it sounded like a freight train. Forget controlling my breathing—it was so hard that my chest hurt; sweat dripped down my face and neck. I dragged Detra Ann behind me and ran on into the dusty darkness. She stumbled as I came to a stop. I flashed my light against the wall. It had to be here somewhere! It had to be! Suddenly, the door popped open without any help from us. We froze on the spot, neither of us breathing or moving. Nothing came. I pushed it open.

  We couldn’t stay trapped in the wall all night. At any moment Jeremiah Cottonwood could decide to appear, and who or what could stop him? “When we get out, run to the right to the back door. You ready?”

  “I don’t know, but let’s do this.” Even in the shadows, I could see the determined look on her face. “Don’t you dare let me go!”

  “You either!”

  I pushed the door open wider. It struck a small side table, slinging picture frames and porcelain pieces to the ground. We were out of the wall and didn’t waste time dawdling in the dining room.

  “Christine,” the disembodied voice growled at us from somewhere near. We couldn’t see him, but it was as if he were everywhere at once. Suddenly, the stomping above us stopped but there was another sound coming from the window. A windstorm blew outside, and the branches of the live oaks were slapping at the windows viciously as if they would whip us too. For some reason, it entranced me.

  “Don’t stop!” Detra Ann yelled at me. It was her turn to drag me now. She ran toward the open door; her ponytail had come undone, and her blond hair flew behind her. I held onto her hand for dear life.

  “Christine! You are mine!” I heard the voice yell—Jeremiah’s anger was palpable. I slid on the freshly waxed wooden floor of the hallway that led to the back door. I ungracefully sailed against the wall and crashed to the ground, and my knee crunched as I landed. Detra Ann struggled to help me up, and I yelped in pain.

  “Run, Detra Ann! Go!”

  “I’m not leaving you, so get your ass up—now!” Her adrenaline surging, she practically jerked me up off the ground, snatched my arm and slung it over her shoulder. The green potted palms begin to move under the influence of the unearthly wind. The brochures and flyers that had been so neatly arranged on the welcome table were now scattered about the room. I heard a distinct giggle—a familiar giggle. Then whispered words sent chil
ls deep into my soul: “You’ll be worm food now, I suppose!” Isla! They were both here!

  The massive double doors that led to the back garden seemed so far away, but we awkwardly ran together. I ignored the pain, determined not to hinder Detra Ann from escaping Seven Sisters.

  “Oh God—oh God—oh God!” she whispered like a chant. We could feel the supernatural presence surging, swelling behind us like a cloud of evil that threatened to overwhelm us and steal our warm bodies from the land of the living. If we turned to look, I was sure we would see something awful, something we would never forget. There wasn’t a chance that I was going to look behind me. I closed my eyes and ran for the door on my damaged knee.

  “Keep moving!” I shouted to myself and to Detra Ann, and then my phone began to ring in my pocket. Only it wasn’t my ring tone that played—it was the tune from Christine’s music box! No way was I going to stop to look and see who called me.

  It was my turn to panic. “Oh God!” Somehow, we made it to the back door. I hung on Detra Ann’s shoulder as she flipped the dead bolt. This time I did look—I saw Isla hovering against a wall, floating above us, grinning as she watched us fight for our lives. I did not see Jeremiah Cottonwood, but a solid black cloud was moving toward us from the stairway. He was coming! My phone rang nonstop in my pocket; Christine’s song played at an unearthly decibel. Suddenly, Detra Ann swung open the door and everything stopped. Isla and the black cloud disappeared. The stomping, the laughter, the wind—it all stopped.

  “Come on, CJ! No looking back. Let’s go!”

  I don’t know how we managed it, but we made it to the first cast-iron bench in the Moonlight Garden. It was pitch-black out. The skies were clear, with no storms at all, but the stars had begun to fade. The sun would make its appearance soon. I leaned on Detra Ann’s shoulder, trying to catch my breath.

  “We’re okay. We’re alright,” she panted, her voice filled with relief. She hugged me and began to cry.