The Ultimate Seven Sisters Collection

by M. L. Bullock

  “Are we going the right way?”

  “Stop a minute, Lenore. Listen!”

  She scowled at me but kept quiet for a few seconds. “What’s that?”

  I tugged at my coat, pulling it about me tighter. Straining to listen, I heard a voice. It had to be Detra Ann! “That’s her! Move faster, Lenore!” We blindly ran until we reached a fork in the tunnel.

  “Where now?” she shouted. We stood waiting to hear something.

  “Help me! Someone!”

  “This way! She’s this way!” I took off to the right and stumbled over an unseen obstacle as I ran toward Detra Ann’s voice. Shafts of light filtered through the grate above us. I stood under it, looking up into the church, when I heard another noise, a scratching, fluttering sound. “There! Grab that and we’ll climb. Maybe push the grate.”

  “Better idea. Let’s go up those stairs.”

  How had I missed those? We hurried up the curved stairwell and into the church. The only light was dim candlelight. I didn’t know when it happened, but somehow we had passed through the “gate” because we were in the old church. The walls were as they had been during my supernatural trip, painted burgundy and gold. According to my online research, the renovations had completely changed the look of the cathedral. In modern times, the basilica had white walls with gold accents.

  “Let her go! You have no place here! Leave now!” It was Father Portier, standing in front of the altar. Detra Ann’s blond hair swirled around her, moving in an unearthly black cloud that seemed to want to swallow her. “Go, now!” The priest stood rigidly in defiance, but a blast of the black cloud sent him flying backwards into the wooden pews. Horror and dread filled me as I watched the old man collapse into a heap.

  “Father Portier!” I yelled, running toward him with Lenore beside me.

  At that moment, Detra Ann saw me and screamed, “Run, CJ!” The black cloud expanded, shrank and expanded again. Suddenly it broke into a hundred smaller clouds, and I heard the scratching, fluttering sound again. In the blink of an eye, the clouds became crows that flew straight toward us with deadly focus.

  “Get down! Under the pews!” I screamed, dragging the priest to the floor and crawling under the benches. The crows flew above us, diving occasionally to peck and scratch at us. Lenore screamed in pain, and I looked back under the pew toward Detra Ann, who lay on the floor about twenty feet away. “Father Portier! Please! Help us!” I shook him again and again until he began to stir.

  The old man turned his head toward me and pleaded, “You have to go. Before it’s too late.”

  “I am not leaving without my friend.”

  “You have no choice, I am afraid. He will not release her.” I peeked out from under the bench at the spinning vortex of birds that threatened us.

  “I am not leaving Detra Ann!” My heart pounded in my chest as I crawled under the benches toward the front of the church, crying and praying as I went. When I finally made it to the front of the church, I reached my hand out from under the pew. Just then an angry bird with a sharp beak dipped down and scratched my skin savagely. Crying out in pain, Detra Ann spotted me and shook her head. The black cloud gathered around her thin frame, and a hundred screeches echoed angrily through the church.

  Defiantly I slid out from under the wooden bench and stood in the aisle. Lenore and the priest were standing there beside me. The cloud of birds fell to the ground and broke into a thousand pieces of black paper. Suddenly a tall man—taller than any I had ever seen—stood between us and Detra Ann. I could not see his face; a gauzy black fog covered his entire body, and only his pale white hands were clearly visible. He did not speak, but his head rose as he observed us.

  “Help us.” I said to the priest.

  Father Portier said in a sad voice, “There is nothing I can do. He is here to collect a life. If I had one to give, I would gladly give it for your friend. But alas I do not. I am sorry, my dear.”

  “But it wasn’t her fault. She never asked for this! We didn’t do anything wrong! For pity’s sake, Father. Please do something.”

  He nodded sadly and said again, “I am sorry, my dear.”

  I heard Detra Ann crying behind the tall figure, and I walked ahead a few more steps. “You can’t have her! It’s not her time!” Death did not respond, but neither did he move. Then his answer came. He beckoned me toward him, and I knew what he wanted. He wanted me. He would take me in exchange for Detra Ann. A life for a life…. I heard the words ringing in my head.

  Death waited for my answer. What about the baby? Fear washed over me, and tears rolled down my cheeks. Then there was Lenore. “I’ve got this,” she whispered. She stood, hopping up and down in her hand-me-down Reeboks as if she were gearing up for a prize fight. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see she was about to do something stupid.

  “Wait! What are you doing?”

  “Thinking about someone else for a change!” She grabbed my hands and hugged me. “I knew this was how it was supposed to be. I knew it when I met Detra Ann. She’s not the only shade here. I’m one too—I’ve been one ever since Aleezabeth died. It should have been me that day.”

  “I don’t understand,” I confessed. The figure in front of us growled, but Lenore didn’t appear moved by it.

  “I cheated Death once too. I’ve been running all these years, but it’s time to stop. This is what’s right. This is what Aleezabeth wants.” She hugged me again and suddenly released me. Then she ran toward the growling figure, screaming, “Aleezabeth!”

  I yelled at the top of my lungs, “Lenore! No! Come back!” I watched in horror as she sprang into the air and fearlessly hurled herself toward Death. Then the massive shape vanished, taking Lenore with it. Everything changed. All the coldness, the fear and the dread vanished—even the interior of the church was different. I could smell the freshly painted white walls; the sooty sconces had been replaced with modern-day pin lights that shone from the ceiling. I stood rocking on my heels in shock at the transformation.

  I tried to process what had just happened. Lenore had given her life for Detra Ann. My friend lay crumpled on the floor, and I ran to her side.

  “Detra Ann! Wake up. Please wake up!” I patted her face desperately. I had to know she was okay.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at me. “Is it gone?”

  “Yes. It’s over.” We held one another, both of us crying, and then she asked me. “Where is Lenore? I saw her—you came for me. Is Henri okay? Ashland?”

  “The guys are fine. Lenore is…she’s gone.”

  “Oh no…” she cried and held onto me as I helped her up from the marble floor. The priest had disappeared too. Detra Ann and I alone stood in the church together, holding one another until Ashland and Henri came up from the basement and ran down the aisle toward us.

  “Carrie Jo? Are you okay, baby? Why are you bleeding?”

  I glanced down at my hands. He was right—they were bleeding. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” He put his arms around me and kissed the top of my head.

  Henri held Detra Ann tight, tears streaming down his face. “Lenore, where is she?”

  “She’s gone, Henri,” I said softly. “She wanted to be with Aleezabeth. She said it was right.”

  Detra Ann held him closer and whispered in his ear. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I didn’t need to know. They had each other now. He nodded and wiped his eyes. This would be hard for him. Lenore was all the family he had. Except us. We were a family. A strange, wonderful family.

  Chapter 16—Carrie Jo

  The next few days were strange to say the least. I felt like I was walking in a fog. I closed the office while we worked out the details of Lenore’s memorial service, then the four of us took the Happy Go Lucky out into Mobile Bay. The only one who seemed truly happy was Detra Ann, and who could blame her? Our first evening out was quiet. The water was like smooth glass, and the air felt warm and welcoming. We were sailing to Point Clear, where we would stay for a few days. With just
a quick phone call, Ashland had managed to book two suites at the Grand Hotel. It was a beautiful place with a breathtaking view of the bay. Naturally, I was fascinated with the history of the place and promised myself that sometime during my stay I would explore the older wings and the grounds.

  After dinner on the boat, Ashland and I spent an hour looking out over the bay, enjoying the lights and the stars that glittered above it all. We held hands and quietly enjoyed the peaceful view.

  “How are you?” he asked softly, his eyes still focused in front of us.

  “I’m fine. The baby is too. Everything is okay.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “What about you? How are you doing with all this?”

  “I haven’t seen anything in forty-eight hours. Any ghosts, I mean. It’s like everything went quiet again. It’s times like this when I question if I ever saw any of what I thought I saw. But I know I did.”

  “Don’t question it. You did see those things. Just enjoy the quiet for as long as it lasts.” I smiled at him and squeezed his hand. Then I asked, “Are you sure you want to stay in Mobile, Ashland? I think the Port City has more than its share of ghosts, don’t you?”

  “I love Mobile, but I want you to be happy. Do you want to leave?”

  I squinted at him in the dim light. “Nope. You’re stuck with me, babe. Wherever you are—that’s where I want to be. We made a promise, remember?” I slid out of the white leather chair and climbed into his lap.

  He kissed me like he meant it. I kissed him back, and I definitely meant it. With a wicked smile, I led him to the shower, stripping off my clothes as I went. I loved this ridiculously large shower stall. It had four shower heads, a smooth stone floor and sultry blue lighting. Just perfect for what I had in mind. I kicked on the wall stereo and turned on the water as Ashland raced to join me. It was a nice way to end the day.

  Afterwards, I pulled on a giant t-shirt and climbed into the feather bed and fell asleep almost immediately. For once, I didn’t have a worry in the world.

  ***

  I woke up with Hooney’s face so close to mine that I could feel her breath on my cheek. She whispered to me, but I was half asleep and had difficulty understanding what she said.

  “Your mother wants you to go. Leave this place, Miss Calpurnia. Leave now.”

  I had given up trying to convince the old woman that I was not my sister. In a perverse sort of way, the misidentification made me feel closer to Calpurnia.

  “Why? Why should I go?” I pressed her, but Hooney’s tight grimace let me know that I would get nothing else out of her. She had passed on the message and believed it should be enough. “Where is my mother? Why does she not tell me this herself, Hooney?”

  “You know good and well why.” I heard a noise from the hallway…someone was here! Karah was not in the room with me, and I could see that her rose pink dress was no longer hanging in the armoire. She must have dressed in one of the other rooms because she never dressed quietly. That meant Isla would be here any moment—if she had not yet arrived.

  “Tell me, is Karah’s mother here? I have to get dressed.”

  “She is, Miss. But if I were you, I would run the other way. She’s the devil, that one.” With that, the old woman left me without another word or glance. I flopped on the bed wondering what to do. If Hooney was truly relaying messages from my mother, was I wise to ignore them? I snorted at myself. When did I begin believing in ghosts? Gooseflesh ran up and down my arms. Then I remembered. Probably when I saw the man in the Moonlight Garden…the one whose hair did not move in the breeze!

  I dressed quickly and managed to arrange my hair in a decent fashion with the few pins that I found remaining in the bowl on the vanity table. Sliding on my purple heels, I dabbed perfume on my neck and headed toward the stairs when I heard Karah’s voice. The sound was coming from the guest room, so I politely tapped on the door and waited. Nobody came, but I could still hear muffled voices. With a frown, I opened the door slowly and hoped it wouldn’t give me away. Of course, it groaned as I pushed it open, and I cringed. “Karah, I am sorry to interrupt, but I could not wait to meet your…”

  I left off speaking, surprised to see that no one was in the room. There were trunks and packages everywhere; obviously Cousin Isla intended to stay in this room. I heard the voices again and followed the source. I discovered that the sounds were coming from the floor grate. Not wanting to intrude, I turned to walk away, but something in Karah’s voice compelled me to listen.

  “Please, Mother. You could not be more wrong. She is not your enemy or mine. I like her!”

  “You always…take my side for a change…weak, just like your father!” Isla’s voice wasn’t as clear. It sounded like she was moving about. Where were they? The Blue Room? “Maybe you have already found it. Are you keeping it from me, Karah?”

  “Never! I would never do that, Mother. I have searched high and low, and I cannot find it. I swear to you, I do not have it!”

  “If that is true, you had better get her out of here before she finds it. Oh, if only you had been a boy. None of this would matter.”

  I heard Karah’s voice, soft and sad, “I am sorry, Mother. I will find it if it takes me…”

  “What are you doing there, Miss Page?”

  I rose from the floor to find Docie in the doorway, her arms crossed. She wore her usual black dress and severe bun. I stammered, “Well, I thought I heard Karah, but I was mistaken. Nobody is here.” I walked towards the doorway, intending to slip out, but Docie would not let me pass.

  “You should not be in here without an invitation. This is Miss Beaumont’s room, and she is very particular about her things.” She suddenly frowned and walked to an open trunk, examining the sumptuous gowns inside. “You have not touched these, have you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Good. You will stain her fine gowns. Such lovely fabrics, don’t you agree? It would be a crime to damage such an elegant wardrobe.”

  The voices from the grate had faded; the women had obviously left the room below us. “Very fine. Excuse me.”

  “Wait, Miss Page.”

  I froze in the hallway, and Docie purred, “Remember my warning. I hope I make myself clear.” I knew that was a threat, and I would be a fool not to heed it. Docie was dangerous, and it sounded as if her mistress had a secret of her own.

  Instead of running downstairs to greet Karah’s mother, I went back to my room to catch my breath. I knew that Karah had been looking for something, but what? A book, a love letter, a will? The only way I would find out would be to ask her, but I did not want to put my cousin in such a position. Her mother sounded like a hard woman to please. After seeing Isla’s gowns, I changed mine, choosing instead a bright yellow dress with plenty of lace and a respectable neckline. I loathed the idea of presenting myself as the “poor cousin” who had nowhere to go. I was a dressmaker, for goodness’ sake! I changed shoes and earrings too and then headed towards the stairs for a second time.

  There was no one in the ladies’ parlor, but I could hear the musical sound of tinkling laughter. The beautiful Isla Beaumont was now holding court on the patio near the Rose Garden. From the half-open door I could see Jackson Keene, Karah and a man I did not recognize listening to a riveting story told as only an actress could. Isla was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, with dainty facial features and hair like an angel’s, blond and perfectly curled. Even though she was Karah’s mother, she barely looked old enough to have had a child. Isla paused her monologue and tilted her head toward me.

  “Come now. Don’t be shy.” I immediately felt embarrassed to have been spotted dawdling behind the door like an awkward child. She rose to her feet and neatly arranged her ethereal blue dress before making a beeline for me. “You must be Delilah. I am Isla Beaumont.” I felt ill at ease, perhaps because all her attention seemed to rest upon me now. It was as intense as her storytelling had been.

  I blushed and said, “I am Delilah Page. And
you are Karah’s mother. It is very nice to meet you at last.” The older woman flinched at my words even though I could not fathom why. Had I offended her already?

  “You do have the look of your sister. I am sure you hear that all the time.”

  “Only since I have been here, but I never tire of hearing it. You knew her?”

  “We spoke a few times.”

  “A few times? Surely you jest, dear Miss Beaumont. You were Miss Cottonwood’s constant companion for some time. I’ve often wondered how she managed to escape Seven Sisters without your knowing anything about it.” The man who spoke to her had a round belly, a balding head and an obvious love for sweets. Even now his fingers could not resist plucking sugared grapes from the silver platter on a nearby table.

  “Why yes, Mr. Ball, we did spend some time together. But Calpurnia was very shy and not one for social gatherings, and as you know, I spent much of my time out and about getting to know our neighbors. Ah, but that was before the dreadful old war. Tell me, Delilah, do you suffer the same maladies as your sister?”

  I blinked at her, unsure how I should respond. “What do you mean? What maladies?”

  She giggled and smiled at the audience watching us. “Am I speaking out of turn? Please forgive me, Karah. You know what I speak of, Mr. Ball. But I promised Karah I would not embarrass you, dear girl. Come join us, Delilah. What a lovely name! Have you ever considered becoming an actress? You have the name for it, you know. I wonder why your mother bestowed such a name on you. Not a very proper name, is it, and Christine Cottonwood was nothing but proper. Or so we all thought.” She giggled again as if she knew some great joke and I was the butt of it. Sadness welled up in me. This woman did not like me, and I had so wanted her to. The gathering appeared shocked and embarrassed by her description of my mother, but nobody said a thing against her. My first instinct was usually wrong, as Maundy often reminded me. So I kept my mouth shut and sat quietly listening to Isla’s news about the London stage and how wonderfully she had played Claudia DuMont in some play called “The Delight of New York.” Everyone nodded and asked the appropriate questions, but I could not help but notice she did not look in my direction again or shower her smiles upon me. Those she reserved for the men and occasionally for her faithful servant, Docie, who was never more than a few feet away from her mistress. Karah appeared to be as miserable as I was, but there was something else there too. I could not understand it. I watched the silent interactions carefully, just as I had been trained to in the dress shop. It was obvious that Docie worshipped Isla and waited on her as if she were the Queen of England. Karah seemed a mere afterthought to her mother. Isla had a way of selfishly stealing all the air out of a room.