ASHFORD: This isn’t going to be easy, Sara, but your sister and Melanie are here to help ground you in your real memories. Your real self. With their help, I’m confident that we can remove the malign spirit.
SARA: And then my memory, everything—it’ll go back to normal?
ASHFORD: I can’t promise that. But you will be yourself. Able to move forward.
BECCA: You asked me to call them, Sara. You knew you needed help. Let them help you.
SARA: Then do it.
ASHFORD: I’m glad to hear you say that, Sara. This will be much easier with your cooperation. Now if you’ll excuse me, we have preparations to make. Becca?
BECCA: I’ll stay here.
ASHFORD: Are you sure that’s—
BECCA: I’m staying here. I’m not afraid of my sister.
She puts a possessive hand on Sara’s shoulder. Sara hunches over the table. Ashford hesitates, then nods.
ASHFORD: Very well. I’ll be back shortly.
SUPPLEMENT C
Text messages between Abigail Ryder and Andrew Ashford
Ashford | Abby
Where did you go?
Checking something out.
Specificity, Abigail.
Mel said something was bothering her, Andrew. _Specifically_ Anthony’s phone.
What about it?
Sara said that Anthony gave it to her. But we don’t have it.
As far as I know, no one else does, either. I checked the police report, it says he took it with him when he “ran away.”
Seriously, I know that this stuff makes people’s brains into goo but how do you just decide that five teenagers “ran away” on the same night and it’s not connected or suspicious?
It’s a survival mechanism, and a canny one our species has developed.
Better to ignore such things than to become part of them.
Sure. But point is, we’re going to the Donoghue house to see if we can find the phone.
Mel says she knows where Sara used to hide things when she didn’t want Becca to find them.
Why wouldn’t she want Becca to find the phone?
Don’t get started on the de-ghostening without me.
I would remind you that time is of the essence.
VIDEO EVIDENCE
Recorded by Abigail Ryder
Recorded May 9, 2017, 9:16 p.m.
The camera pans across a fairly unremarkable bedroom. A few art prints adorn the walls—a woman with a birdcage for a chest, a manipulated photograph of a girl falling from the sky over a field of wheat, a painting of a girl plucking a star from the night sky. A desk sits against one wall; a twin bed, gray sheets, rumpled, against another. Melanie Whittaker steps into frame and crosses to the closet.
MEL: If she hid it, it should be in here.
ABBY: Do you mind starting from the top, introducing what we’re doing? For the official records.
MEL: Official?
ABBY: I mean. Ish. Ashford’s a stickler.
Mel turns to the camera.
MEL: Okay. Um, this is Sara Donoghue’s room. Sara and Becca have always been really close, but even close sisters occasionally want to keep things private, so Sara would sometimes stash things where Becca couldn’t find them. And I know where, because I’m a bad influence and it was usually my fault she had something worth hiding. So.
She turns back to the closet and slides it open, then crouches down. She runs her fingers along the near side of the floor.
MEL: Yup. This bit of carpet comes up, and then this bit of wood comes away, and there’s a little gap, and . . .
Mel pulls free a phone, brushing dust from it.
MEL: Shit. Here it is.
ABBY: Can you confirm that is Anthony Beck’s phone?
MEL: I think so. Out of juice, though.
ABBY: Let’s get it charged and see what was worth hiding.
INTERVIEW
SARA DONOGHUE
May 9, 2017
The door opens. Ashford enters, looking grave. Becca and Sara sit side by side, Becca with her arms around her sister, whispering to her, an expression indicative of a wearied but determined attempt at comforting on her face.
ASHFORD: Sara, we’ve made our preparations. I’m going to need you to come with us.
Sara takes a deep, shuddering breath.
SARA: You said that this was risky.
ASHFORD: It is.
SARA: What could happen?
ASHFORD: I’m not going to mince words. You might not survive the process, Sara. And if you do, it could cause further damage to your memories and even your personality. And that is only in isolating the spirit; extracting it is more difficult still. But I have years of experience with this sort of thing, and Abigail is remarkably talented with exorcism. Miranda sent you our way for a reason. She knew that we could help you.
SARA: All right.
ASHFORD: You’re certain. I don’t want to do this without your consent.
SARA: It’s better than . . .
ASHFORD: I understand.
BECCA: It’ll be okay. You’re going to get through this, Sara. I’ll be right with you.
Together, they rise.
ASHFORD: Actually, Becca, I would prefer to have a few moments to get your sister situated before you join us. It will help . . . I suppose “calibrate” is a reasonable word. You and Mel will be brought in once Sara is properly in place and we have a good sense of the baseline energies in play.
BECCA: I . . . Okay. I have no idea what any of that means, but okay.
ASHFORD: Wait here, and Abby will come to collect you in just a moment.
He beckons to Sara, who walks meekly to him. His hand on her shoulder, he guides her out. The door shuts behind them, and Becca settles back into her chair.
Several minutes pass. Eventually, frowning, Becca rises. She walks to the door and tries the knob. It’s locked.
Slowly, she turns back and looks straight at the camera, sitting in the corner of the room. Her mouth curls in a slight, sly smile. She speaks softly.
BECCA: I missed something, didn’t I?
VIDEO EVIDENCE
Retrieved from the cell phone of Anthony Beck
Recorded April 19, 2017, 12:49 a.m.
The spires and domes of Ys rise, coral obscuring the precision of their architecture with tumorous bulges of reds and blues and pinks. Sara and Becca stand, fingers laced, locked in silent, urgent conversation.
ANTHONY: I don’t know why I’m recording this, but . . . I don’t know. Something’s not right.
His voice is so soft the microphone almost fails to pick it up.
ANTHONY: When we found Sara in the dark . . . Something was wrong. Something is wrong.
Suddenly, Sara wrenches her hands free from Becca’s. She collapses to her knees, hands over her face, a sound between a scream and a moan trapped behind her lips.
ANTHONY: What’s wrong?
Anthony runs toward them, dropping the phone into his pocket. The picture is half-obscured, but the sound is clear.
BECCA: I don’t know. We were just talking, and then—
SARA: No no no she’s in here she’s drowning me I can’t get her out.
Sara looks up between splayed fingers, her eyes red-shot and frantic.
SARA: You have to leave me here. Get out. Run, now.
ANTHONY: What? No. What are you talking about?
BECCA: It’s her.
Anthony looks at her, bewildered. Becca retreats a step, clutching herself with both arms.
BECCA: Lucy. It’s Lucy. I can hear her, in Sara’s voice. I don’t know how, but it’s her.
SARA: Not Lucy.
Her voice is different. Still strained,
but calmer. Her hands drop into her lap. She draws a deep breath.
SARA: But close enough. I chose wrong.
ANTHONY: Is Sara—is it like Vanessa?
SARA: Not like Vanessa, Anthony, no. Vanessa was unmade and a poor facsimile constructed of her. I’ve merely slipped inside Sara’s skin, but she’s fighting me more than I thought she could. And you’re not going to stop, are you?
Her eyes unfocus slightly as Dahut addresses the last words to Sara. Then they snap back into focus, and Sara bursts to her feet, frantic.
SARA: Just get out of here! She wants to escape. She wants to start over. She’ll find a way to let that thing out into the world. If you leave me here, she can’t—
Her voice cuts off abruptly. Her whole body shakes, then stills, and she draws heavy breaths through clenched teeth.
SARA: You won’t stop fighting as long as you can feel me in here, will you? Fine, then. Easier to fix your memories and find a more hospitable home.
She steps toward Becca.
ANTHONY: What are you doing?
He moves to interpose himself.
SARA: It’s all right. Isn’t it, Becca? Come here.
Becca, mute, her lips slightly parted, steps forward before Anthony can stop her. She takes Sara’s hand. The gesture is delicate, like dancers coming together as the music begins.
There is a flicker in the air beside the girls. A figure appears. A girl. Lucy Callow, her dress white and crisp. Her hair flutters in a wind that touches nothing else. And then she isn’t Lucy at all, but a woman with sharp, high cheekbones and a regal pose, her hair adorned with gems. Then Lucy again, delicate and sweet.
Just as swiftly as she appeared, the girl is gone. Anthony grabs both sisters and pulls them apart; they offer no resistance. The angle of the phone in his pocket makes the picture nearly incomprehensible as he says the girls’ names in turn, frightened and confused.
BECCA: Anthony. There’s no point in panicking. This is what you wanted. They both live. For a while longer, at least. You stay here. It doesn’t really change anything.
She steps close to him, only a portion of her torso visible.
ANTHONY: Just let her go.
BECCA: No.
The video barely catches the glint of the knife in her hand—the knife Becca used to carve the walls of the endless halls, not long but sharp and gleaming. Anthony doesn’t even have time to react or defend himself. Her arm jabs forward three times, driving the knife somewhere below his ribs, the poor angle of the camera obscuring the exact location. He staggers back. The camera angle changes abruptly, as if he’s fallen to his knees, and the phone falls, clattering to the ground. The camera faces straight up, recording Anthony from below. He gasps, his breath wheezing.
SARA: No. No . . .
She stumbles toward Anthony and sinks down in front of him. Her hands move to cover his, to stop the blood.
BECCA: It’s all right. It might not even kill him. But it should keep him from interfering any more than he already has. And you won’t remember it. Your memories are still scabbing over. You don’t have to remember any of this. It will be peaceful.
Sara’s arms go around Anthony’s neck. She holds him tight, her shaking evident even with the contorted angle that barely reveals a sliver of her side.
Anthony’s voice is a whisper.*
ANTHONY: My phone. Take my phone. Don’t let her see. Remember—remember that. I gave you my phone.
The phone scrapes as Anthony awkwardly lifts it and tucks it into Sara’s bag, their positions hiding the motion from Becca/Dahut.
ANTHONY: Remember.
SARA: I will. I’ll remember. I promise.
Another moment’s fumbling as Anthony finds the button to stop the recording, and then the video ends.
EXHIBIT P
Witness statement regarding attack in Briar Glen City Park
April 30, 2017
FRANK MICHAELSON: The two girls were walking together. An Asian girl and a white girl. I thought I maybe recognized the Asian girl, but I’m not sure. Maybe I saw her on the news or something? They were just walking along, and talking, and then the white girl started screaming and threw herself at the other girl. Really going at her.
OFFICER BAUER: Did you hear what she was saying?
MICHAELSON: I think she was saying “get out.” “Get out of here.”
OFFICER BAUER: Are you sure she was saying “here”?
MICHAELSON: What else would she be saying?
OFFICER BAUER: One of the other witnesses thought she heard “her.”
MICHAELSON: “Get out of her”? How does that make sense?
OFFICER BAUER: Thank you, Mr. Michaelson.
EXHIBIT Q
Text messages between Sara Donoghue and Becca Donoghue (deleted)
Recovered from phone records
Sara | Becca
4/27/17
Do you still hear her?
Hear who?
You know who. Lucy.
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
I still have dreams but now I can’t tell if they’re memories or something else.
Sara, you need to stop thinking about this.
It’s over.
But what if it’s not? Something happened. In the dark.
We survived. That’s what matters. Forget the rest.
I need to remember. There’s something I’m supposed to remember. About Dahut.
It’s better if you don’t.
That name I told you about, Ashford? I looked it up.
Sara, you said yourself you don’t know where you heard that name.
It’s probably nothing.
It’s not. He’s a professor. Or he was a professor.
There’s not a lot online, but I think he investigates paranormal things.
I think he could help.
There’s nothing to help with anymore.
He’s probably just a crackpot.
I need help.
You don’t.
I want to call him, but I can’t. I keep trying.
Maybe you haven’t called him because you know you don’t need to.
Please, Becca. I need your help.
I’m not going to enable this obsession.
EXHIBIT R
Text messages between Sara Donoghue and Melanie Whittaker
Sara | Mel
4/28/17
Mel, I need your help.
Anything.
There’s someone. This man. Becca knows.
She needs to call him.
Please.
You have to make her call him.
There’s something wrong with me and he can help.
You just got done yelling at me that there was nothing wrong with you.
I can’t think
I can’t remember
It comes and goes
Please
Please
Mel the road
4/30/17
Jesus, sorry. I think I got a little too drunk.
Since when do you drink?
When do you think I started drinking?
But I’m fine.
Seriously, I don’t know why I was freaking out.
There’s nothing “wrong with me” except horrible trauma.
So we’ve got that in common.
I’m calling Becca.
I’m going to make sure she calls that guy.
You don’t have to.
I kind of think I do.
Because if this is anything like the last time you “drunk texted” you’re not going to remember this conversation tomorrow, and it’s getting really fucking obvious that there _is_ so
mething wrong with you. You need help and I’m going to make sure you get it.
Don’t worry, Sara. We’re looking out for you.
EXHIBIT S
Emails recovered from the drafts folder of Rebecca Donoghue
To: Sara Donoghue
From: Rebecca Donoghue
Subject: (none)
Help I
To: Sara Donoghue
From: Rebecca Donoghue
Subject: (none)
i need help i
To: Sara Donoghue
From: Rebecca Donoghue
Subject: gone
She’s gone, but she’s not gone. Only for a few minutes, maybe. I can already feel her trying to take control again. It’s
To: Sara Donoghue
From: Rebecca Donoghue
Subject: wake
Lucy did something to me only she’s not Lucy at all and now I keep waking up and it’s another day and I’m in another place and I don’t understand what happened.
To: Sara Donoghue
From: Rebecca Donoghue
Subject: listen
A moment ago I was with you and I tried to tell you something was wrong, but I think she messed with you too. She spent so long whispering to me it was like she could just step inside me and she already owned me but I think she couldn’t control you and I think that’s why she left. Why she picked me instead. I think she had to do something to you to make you forget instead. But you need to remember.
What happened to Anthony? What did I do?
To: Sara Donoghue
From: Rebecca Donoghue
Subject: Mel
Mel called and I didn’t understand what she was talking about. But I sent that man an email. Ashford? I told him I needed help, but I don’t know if I made any sense. I sent him a bunch of photos. That was easier than writing. They were already on the computer. I hope he
To: Sara Donoghue
From: Rebecca Donoghue
Subject: (none)
I haven’t sent any of these why can’t I send them I can’t even make myself push the mouse over
Rules for Vanishing Page 26
