by R. L. Stine
“I can tell you which of the old books those spells come from,” Bud said. “I’ve even done that feather gag myself.”
My brother’s face was twisted in total confusion. “You mean—?”
“Did you forget I’m a Fear? I’m eighty-six years old. I’ve had a lot of years to practice the family magic.” He coughed, then muttered, “Some would call it sorcery. I believe that’s what we are. Sorcerers. By line and by blood.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn’t know what to say. I was caught. Bud nailed it. He was right about me.
He turned to Robby. “And you. Did you have anything to do with this? Are the two of you working together?”
Robby shrugged. “No way. I didn’t even know—”
“Well, how is that possible, Robby? Where were you?” Bud snapped.
“He was probably on the phone with Nikki.” I finally found my voice.
Bud rubbed his chin, his eyes locked on me. “I just have one question for you, Harmony. Are you only having fun? Or are you trying to ruin your sister’s wedding?”
I swallowed. My heart was pounding like crazy. “Uh . . . a little of both,” I finally choked out.
I hadn’t counted on being caught. And the truth was, I didn’t really know why I was causing the mischief. I mean, I have a lot of resentment against Marissa, I admit it. But I didn’t want to totally ruin the wedding. I guess I just wanted to make it . . . more exciting?
All this endless wedding nonsense. . . . All the solemn talk and months of planning. . . . The food . . . the band . . . the minister . . . the rehearsal dinner . . . blah blah blah.
I just had to do something.
Grandpa Bud scooted back in the chair and rested his head against the chair back. “Harmony, you have to be careful here,” he said, rubbing his hands on the arms of the chair. “It’s possible for magic to get out of hand in this place. I mean out of control. Even the simplest spells—”
“I don’t have anything else planned,” I blurted out.
“Even the simplest spells can go in unpredictable directions,” he continued. “This is a cursed place. There is an evil about it that has led to horror and death.”
“I know,” I started. “I read—”
But Grandpa Bud was determined to tell us the story. “It was a wedding here much like this one. With two sisters. Their names were Ruth-Ann and Rebecca. They were Fears, and one of them—the bride—had made a terrible mistake. She had chosen for her groom a young man from the Goode family.”
I settled onto the bed and folded my arms around a pillow held to my chest. Of course Robby and I knew about the Goode family. We knew the families have been enemies for hundreds of years. And we knew there was a curse that a Fear and a Goode could never get together—and live.
I tuned out as Bud continued with the details of the wedding. My mind kept jumping around. I wondered if he would snitch to my parents about what I had done. And, whoa. If Marissa ever found out, she’d never speak to me again.
“Both sisters died on that day,” Bud was saying when I tuned back in. “It was in the early twenties, something like ninety-five years ago. Before I was born. But I grew up hearing my parents talk about it. They were there. They saw everything, all the horror, all the sadness. And that day gave them nightmares for the rest of their lives.”
Robby had been listening intently. I don’t think he knew any of this. Somehow he was never interested enough in our family.
“What happened to the Goodes?” he asked. “We haven’t heard anything about them. I mean, Mom and Dad don’t talk about them. And I never knew anyone named Goode.”
“They haven’t been heard from,” Bud said. “Not since that awful day. Not since that day the bride and her sister died.”
“So they’re gone?” Robby said, twisting his phone in one hand. “Then maybe the curse between our families is over?”
I tossed the pillow aside. “You don’t think there’s a Goode here at our wedding, do you, Grandpa Bud? You don’t think—”
He shook his head. “Believe me, your father did a very thorough background check on Doug and his family. He hired two different firms to investigate them. They’re not Goodes. Not related to them in any way.”
“What about Doug’s family’s guests? And his friends?” Robby asked.
Bud shook his head. “None of them are Goodes. You can be sure of that.”
I sat up. “So then what’s the problem, Grandpa? Okay, so I played a few tricks, had a little fun. Indulged my inner . . . sorceress. I know it was wrong. I know it was a little mean. But there’s no real harm.”
Grandpa Bud narrowed his eyes at me, and his expression turned grim. Suddenly, it appeared that all the color had drained from his face. He was as pale as the window curtains beside his chair.
“If you love your sister, Harmony, you’ll stop this right now. History can repeat itself. Listen to me. I’ve seen it! History can repeat.”
A cold shudder shook my body. Bud’s words rang in my ears. And as he spoke, I had this terrifying picture in my mind. I saw Marissa sailing over the cliff edge, hanging in the air, her arms flailing, her hair flying above her head, her mouth open in a silent scream. And I saw her fall straight down, straight down for miles, straight down—to the rocks below.
Seventeen
My hands were still shaking and my body felt cold as I helped Grandpa Bud to his feet, and he lumbered out of the room without another word.
Robby shook his head. “I mean, wow. What a weird night.”
“Yeah, weird,” I muttered. I was struggling to force that frightening picture from my mind.
“I can’t believe you did spells and, like, didn’t tell me,” Robby said.
“Why spoil the surprise?” I replied.
He stared at me. He has no sense of humor. “Harmony, teach me.”
“What?”
“Come on! Teach me how to do things like that!”
I frowned at him. “Why? What for?”
“Well . . . maybe I could cast a spell on Mom and Dad to make them like Nikki.”
“That would need to be a very powerful spell,” I said.
“No. Seriously—”
“Get out of here,” I said, opening the door. “I’m not teaching you any magic tonight, and I’m sure you’re dying to call Nikki and tell her about the squirrels.”
He stopped at the door. “Should I tell her you caused the squirrel stampede?”
“Don’t you dare!” I shouted. “I’ll kill you if you tell anyone, Robby. I’m serious.” I waved my hands like I was casting a spell. “I’ll turn you into a frog. No. I’ll turn you into a wart on a frog. Do you get what I’m saying?”
He laughed. “My sister the witch.”
“Sorceress!” I called after him. Then he disappeared down the hall to his room.
I stood at the door, my hand gripping the knob, taking deep breaths, trying to feel calmer. I couldn’t decide what to do next. I had an impulse to go to the hotel bar and see if any of the cute guys Doug had invited were there.
I always read about people who hook up at weddings. I mean, it would take my mind off being caught by Grandpa Bud, and the worry that my little dabbling in magic might get out.
But frozen there at the door, staring out into the glare of the long hallway, I suddenly felt terrible. A wave of guilt washed over me, so powerful I felt weak at the knees.
I’m not a good person like Marissa, I’ll admit it. Marissa would never think about going to the bar to find someone to hook up with on the night before my wedding. She’s a total straight arrow, and it works for her.
Maybe Marissa was the answer. I should go see her. Not to confess. Forget that. But to be a good, supportive sister on the night before her wedding.
I only meant to be a little naughty, not to ruin her weekend entirely. We’ve never been the closest, but I knew I’d feel better if I talked to her and showed her I was here for her.
I clicked the room door behind me and star
ted down the hall. I could hear Robby on the phone in the next room. I prayed he wasn’t snitching on me, telling Nikki that I was behind all the bizarre happenings.
Two girls I didn’t recognize passed me. They were about my age, around seventeen. One was blond; the other had red hair in a cute bob. They must have been Doug’s guests. One carried an ice bucket, the other a couple of bottled Cokes. We said hi but we didn’t stop.
I knocked on Marissa’s door. “Marissa! Are you in there?”
I heard some shuffling sounds. Then footsteps padding across the room. Marissa pulled open the door and couldn’t hide her surprise that it was me. “Oh. Hello.”
She had changed into a loose silky nightgown that came down past her knees. She was barefoot. Her dark hair was pulled back off her shoulders into a messy topknot. I saw immediately that her eyes were red-rimmed. Had she been crying?
“Are you okay?” I said.
“No.” She stepped back so I could enter the room. I gazed around. It was as neat as if no one was staying in it. All of her clothes were stowed away in the closet and drawers, I imagined. Her wedding dress was draped over the armchair.
We both dropped onto the edge of the bed. For a moment I couldn’t take my eyes off her light blue toenails. Marissa never bothered with things like nail polish. But now she was all decorated, blue fingers, blue toes. (It’s her favorite color. Her eyes are blue, too. So pale blue that sometimes they’re gray.)
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She scrunched up her face. “Everything.”
I took her hand. It was kind of awkward. I mean, we never hold each other’s hands. “Tell me. What’s so terrible?”
She sighed. “Well . . . where should I start?” Then it all spilled out of her in one breathless burst. “Doug is being a beast, and I don’t know why. Uncle Kenny says he’s going to sue the chef because of all the feathers. Two of Doug’s cousins sprained their ankles, tripping over squirrels on the lawn. Aunt Dora may have broken her hip. They took her to the hospital in town. Didn’t you hear the ambulance?
“The woman who is supposed to do my hair and makeup tomorrow just called and said she’s too sick to come. I just checked the weather online and it says rain for tomorrow.”
She was gasping now, her chest heaving up and down.
“Take a breath,” I said. I squeezed her hand, then she pulled hers away.
“I’m not going to cry. I don’t want a puffy face at my wedding. But I really wish I could. So far, this wedding is a disaster. I can’t decide if it’s a comedy or a tragedy.”
“Choose comedy,” I said. “Listen, Marissa, it’s going to be beautiful. The weather way up here is always different from what they say. I’ll bet it’ll be bright sunshine.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know . . .”
“Do you honestly think yours is the first wedding where things are tense?” I was trying to be sweet and understanding, but somehow that didn’t come out the way I wanted. Why did I have so much trouble being sympathetic to her?
“So some crazy things happened,” I continued. “But just think . . . the sun will rise, and tomorrow will be a totally different day. Everything will be different. You’ll be married! Can you believe it?”
She didn’t smile. Her eyes locked on mine. “I know you don’t like Doug,” she said.
“Yes, I do—” I started.
“I know you don’t,” Marissa said softly. “But he’ll be a good husband. He’s steady and reliable. He’ll take good care of me.”
What a weird, old-fashioned thing to say.
“I like Doug,” I said. It sounded awkward, at least to me. “Everyone likes Doug.”
She just gazed back at me, her face a blank now.
I knew that Doug wasn’t the love of Marissa’s life. Everyone knew it. Aiden Murray was the love of her life. She met him in college, and she adored him.
When she brought Aiden home to meet our family, Marissa was so excited she could barely speak. It was obvious to all of us that he was crazy about her, too.
And then I ruined it for them.
I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t. But I did ruin everything for them, and I know it’s the reason why Marissa and I will never be close.
Eighteen
I stayed in her room a while longer, and Marissa and I chatted about less serious things. We talked about Max and what an impossible little troublemaker he is. We talked about her dress, and she showed me two different pairs of shoes. She couldn’t decide which was best. They were both perfect, of course.
We talked about Robby and how obsessed he was with Nikki. Marissa said she begged our parents to invite Nikki, but they said the wedding was already too big for the lodge.
Marissa rolled her eyes. “Of course, it had nothing to do with how they think Nikki is all wrong for Robby,” she said sarcastically.
“They think she’s a psycho,” I said, chuckling. “They’re not wrong. I mean, some of the things she says are just nuts. She has no filter at all.”
Marissa nodded. “And Robby loves it. He thinks she’s a rebel. She’s so out there all the time. She doesn’t even try to control herself.”
We were silent for a moment.
“And what’s with Doug?” I asked casually, trying to keep it light.
She shrugged again. “No clue. I thought he’d want to spend some time with me tonight. But instead, he went off with some of his friends.”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t get it. He already had his big bachelor party in Atlantic City, which he won’t tell me anything about. Why did he choose to hang with the guys again tonight?”
“He’s probably just nervous,” I said, scrambling for an answer. “Just needed to blow off some steam. Doug lets things build up, right? He isn’t really good at talking about stuff.”
She nodded. “Yeah. I guess you could say he’s bottled up sometimes.” She stared at the wall, as if she’d never thought of this before.
“Well, after tomorrow, you can put the handcuffs on, chain him to the living room couch.”
She smiled but she didn’t laugh.
I couldn’t tell if I was cheering her up or not. But I knew I was starting to feel a lot better. “Know what we need?” I said, jumping to my feet. “We need a few beers. Follow me to the bar?”
She thought about it, then shook her head. “I don’t think so.” She swept her hand back through her hair. “I need my beauty rest, you know?”
She stood up and followed me to the door. I turned and we hugged. It was a genuine hug, an honest moment between us. Maybe we could start to be closer. Well . . . that’s what I thought.
I decided to take a walk. Breathe some fresh air. I walked through the lobby. I could hear music and voices from the bar down the hall, but I kept walking to the front doors.
I found myself in a cool, windless night. A blanket of clouds above blocked out the moon, and I couldn’t see any stars. Uh-oh. Maybe it was going to rain tomorrow.
A wide paved path led around the front of the lodge, and I followed it to the other end, walking behind a low evergreen hedge lined with spring flowers, mostly azaleas and crocuses and freesias, and a few daffodils.
I took deep breaths. It smelled sweet. Heavenly. I had this flash: I could lose myself in the night. Everything felt so fresh and alive.
The path led down, away from the lodge. Someone had planted a long row of apple trees, and their blossoms were mostly on the ground, already fallen, light and white as feathers.
I turned back. The darkness was rich and black. The light escaping from the lodge windows didn’t reach this far down the slope.
What would happen if I just kept walking?
I guess weddings give you all kinds of crazy thoughts.
I kept thinking about Marissa married. Marissa and Doug. Just as they had planned in high school.
High school sweethearts. Marissa and Doug.
His family couldn’t afford to send him to college. He went part-time to the community college
in Martinsville, and he worked at his cousin’s furniture store.
Marissa went off to Wisconsin to go to school in Madison. But they promised they’d stay together. They wouldn’t fall apart. They promised each other to stay true.
Sweet story, huh?
The memories swirled in my head. The combination of the faces, the names, the memories, and the heavy sweet fragrance of the flowers and the air—it was all making me feel high. Kind of light and giggly. You know, that floating feeling, where everything is a blur and you don’t mind it at all?
I stretched and raised my face to the sky. If only I knew a spell to keep this moment alive forever. . . .
A shiver ran down my back. I was suddenly chilled. I turned and started to climb up the path. Light from the lodge windows rolled over me, and I began to feel heavy again, back down to earth.
The front driveway came into view, and then the lodge entrance. And I stopped with a gasp and watched a tall figure step out of a red sports car and go loping toward the entrance.
Was that . . . Aiden?
No. It couldn’t be. I was still lost in the whirlwind of memories. Aiden Murray wouldn’t be here. No way.
But he was as tall as Aiden, and broad-shouldered. He had that athletic, forceful stride, and he wore that same stupid newsboy cap over his curly blond hair, the hat that everyone teased him about.
He stopped and talked to a tall, red-haired valet. He gestured toward the red sports car, and the valet handed him a ticket. Then, adjusting his hat, he turned and stepped into the light of the lodge entrance.
And I saw his face.
And started to run toward him, my shoes slipping on the dew-wet path. “Aiden? Is that you?” I shouted. “Aiden?”
Nineteen
“Aiden?”
He disappeared into the building. The front doors whooshed shut behind him.
I took off running, my shoes scraping the dirt path. I was nearly to the entrance when the red-haired valet stepped in my way. “Nice night,” he said. The name on his uniform badge read: Walter Q. “You taking a walk?”
I nodded. “Yeah. The path. Very nice.” I tried to edge past him.
