Chris, Kyle, Sean and Cole were following behind Cord as they walked up the driveway towards Evenshade. They were torn between the man’s anger and their sense of self-preservation.
“But I locked the door, Dad,” Chris said.
Cord glanced at his son. “And that’s another thing,” he said with disapproval. “Since when do you believe in crap like that? You gave up believing in ghosts when you stopped believing in Santa Claus.”
“You mean there’s no Santa Claus?” Kyle looked crestfallen.
As Sean and Cole giggled, Cord shot his son a nasty look. “I’m really not sure how you thought I’d believe a story like that, but you need to cut it out. I know it’s Halloween and all that, but don’t turn your pranks on me.”
“There were a whole group of people on the porch that heard the sounds, too,” Chris insisted. “All of this groaning and banging. Honestly, Dad, I don’t know what it was, but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out.”
They were at the porch of the house and Cord came to an abrupt halt, facing the group. “I’ll tell you what it was,” he began to point at Sean and Kyle. “You said those two went upstairs without you, right?”
Chris nodded hesitantly and Cord continued. “Somehow, some way, they set up a practical joke and you fell for it.” He turned back for the house and pulled out his key. “I’m going to go upstairs and find the CD player they set up to scare the crap out of you and then I’m going to ground them both for a week.”
Sean and Kyle frowned. “You can’t ground me,” Sean insisted weakly.
Cord cocked an eyebrow at him. “You want to lay money on that?”
Sean just made a face and looked away as Kyle jumped in to defend them. “Dad, I swear, I’m not making this up,” he insisted. “Why would we? All I know is that we heard this weird singing so we went upstairs and there was this little girl up there only she wasn’t a little girl; she had big holes where her eyes should have been and these scary sharp teeth. And the song she was singing….”
Sean piped up, cutting him off. “I’ve heard Rosie sing it before,” he said as if suddenly remembering. “It went like… like … ‘Goody Good, Goody Good’, or something that sounded like that.”
Cord paused, looking at them as he inserted the key into the lock, before shaking his head and pushing the door open.
“Look,” he said as the door swung wide. “I appreciate the fact that you’re trying to scare all of us because it’s Halloween, but you really shouldn’t have left the house like this. Plus, you scared the crap out of Alix and Rose with your crazy story.”
Alix and Rose were still down the street trick-or-treating as Cord had volunteered to go back to the house and see what was really going on. The boys had been positively frantic when they had found Alix and Cord a few houses down with the little princess, demanding candy from the neighbors, and had spooked Alix fairly good with their tales of a ghostly girl.
“I didn’t mean to scare my mom, but it’s the truth,” Sean insisted. “We really did see a ghost and she really did sing that song that Rosie sings.”
Cord stepped into the house, pretty much ignoring Sean’s statement as he looked around. The fire was still blazing and the television was still on. He would have gotten extremely upset about it had it not been for one thing; it began to occur to him that Chris would never have run out of a house without turning off the television or dampening the fire. The kid had always been inordinately responsible. It wouldn’t have been in his character to go off and leave everything blaring. For the first time, Cord began to feel a sense of unease.
“Chris?” he turned to his eldest. “Blow out the jack-o-lantern candles, okay? Let’s start getting this place buttoned down for the night.”
As Chris went out to the porch, Cole, Kyle and Sean stuck to Cord like glue. Where he went, they went. The house seem completely normal as Cord moved from the living room into the dining room, and on into the kitchen. His trio of shadows followed close behind.
“I’m not sleeping here tonight,” Sean declared as they passed from the utility room and into a pair of small adjoined rooms opposite the living room. “No way I’m sleeping with ghosts.”
“Yes, you are,” Cord said steadily, inspecting the smaller built-in closets in one of the rooms. “In fact, we’re all going to sleep here tonight because I have a feeling your mom might not want to sleep here, either, after she heard you guys. This house has her spooked as it is and she’s going to need moral support.”
“Dad!”
It was Chris, out in the main hall, and they all moved out there to see what he was shouting about. The moment they hit the entry, Chris pointed up the stairs.
“It’s happening again,” he whispered. “Hear it?”
Cord went to the base of the stairs, listening. He could, indeed, hear something, the same odd whispered singing he had heard once before when he had been alone in the house with Alix. It was the third time in as many months that this had been brought to his attention and he was starting to think that it wasn’t a neighbor’s television turned up too loud or the imagination of a young child. As much as he hated to admit it, there had to be another explanation, although he couldn’t bring himself to believe that it was anything supernatural. Still….
He mounted the steps, listening to the softly uttered song that was emanating from the upper floor. He glanced back at the boys, huddled at the base of the steps, and by the time he turned his focus forward to see where he was going, something stopped him dead in his tracks.
Rose was standing at the top of the stairs, watching him. But something was off; Cord knew immediately that it wasn’t Rose – the eyes were dark and sunken, looking blankly at him. The girl was dressed in a white knee-length dress with a high collar and long sleeves, looking like something from eras past when young girls would dress primly and prettily. He could hear the boys behind him gasping and hissing, but he kept his focus on the figure several feet in front of him and tried not to panic.
“Rosie?” he finally said, softly.
The figure twitched, shifted, and it was then that he realized he could see through her. He could see the light from hall bathroom shining through. Still, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, shocked into disbelief even though his eyes were telling him something completely different. The child-figure began to rock back and forth.
“Goody Good, Goody Good, ’ere snake and bird could,” it whispered. “Mercy is revenge in Bebe’s house.”
The voice was oddly strained, with uneven tones that weren’t of this earth. Shocked, Cord watched as the ghostly Rose opened her mouth to reveal sharp, blackened teeth. The mouth opened wider and wider still, and the head tilted back, the arms lifting as if to embrace the world. An otherworldly groan filled the air, seeming to come from the very walls, as the figure evaporated like a puff of smoke. Cord, in fact, watched the smoky mist drift up to the ceiling and vanish.
As quickly as she had appeared, the apparition disappeared. Stunned, Cord stood on the stairs, midway up, trying to wrap his head around what he just saw. When he finally turned to look at the boys still standing at the bottom of the steps, he could see how terrified they all were, especially Sean. His eyes were bugged out as he pointed to the spot where the spirit had vanished.
“That was… that was Rose,” he gasped.
Cord just stood there. He really didn’t know what to say. Finally, he lumbered down the steps, slowly and laboriously, thinking many different things at that moment. But the most important thought he had was of Alix. He had no idea how he was going to break the news to her, but he had a feeling how she was going to react. It wasn’t going to be a happy reaction.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that you’d better let me tell your mother about this. No one else say a word, okay? Let her hear it from me. Also, I think we’ll all be spending the night at our house tonight.”
The boys looked at each other, nodding fearfully. “What was that, Dad?” Chris asked.
Cord
just shook his head. “I have no idea,” he said, looking to the apprehensive faces around him. “But I think I’d better find out.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Evenshade is a marvelous example of early Colonial architecture,” the woman from the Historical Society was saying. “True saltbox architecture with sharp roof angles. And you say you’re the new owner?”
Alix nodded her head as the woman came out from behind her desk to shake her hand. “Yes,” she said. “We bought it a couple of months back and it’s been going through some renovations. In fact, people from the Danvers Historical Society have been out to see it to make sure we’re not altering the structure or destroying valuable historical material.”
The woman nodded quickly. “Yes, I know,” she replied. “I’m Mrs. Mowbray, by the way. My husband has been out to see the renovations a few times. He says the place is looking marvelous.”
Alix shook the woman’s hand. “Alix Hendry,” she said, indicating Cord as he, too, shook the woman’s hand. “This is Cord Trevor. He’s my….”
“Trevor?” the woman cocked her head. “Not from the Trevor family? The descendants of John Trevor of the Mayflower?”
Cord nodded. “Yes, ma’am. That would be me.”
Mrs. Mowbray was evidently thrilled. “I knew Cecily Trevor when I was a very young girl,” she said. “Oh, it must have been in the nineteen thirties. Cecily had, I think, three brothers and a sister. The Trevors were one of the very first families to settle the area back in the day.”
Cord nodded again. “Cecily is my great-aunt,” he replied. “Her brother William was my great-grandfather. He passed away about twenty years ago, but she’s still alive. She turned ninety-seven last month.”
“Goodness,” Mrs. Mowbray exclaimed. “Still living, did you say? Well, I was a very young girl when I knew Cecily. I was at least ten or twelve years younger than she was.”
Alix couldn’t help the grin on her face. “That makes you in your early eighties,” she said. “I certainly hope I’m as active as you are when I get to be your age.”
Mrs. Mowbray grinned. “That’s very kind of you,” she flashed her yellowed teeth. “Say… you’re not from around here, are you?”
Alix shook her head. “California.”
Mrs. Mowbray brightened. “I can tell,” she said confidently. “You don’t talk like one of us. Plus, you have that skinny California look to you. Pretty, like a movie star, you know?”
Cord chuckled. “Yes, she is very pretty,” he said, returning the focus to the house. “Mrs. Mowbray, we came by to see what we could find out about the history of the house. Even though it’s been in my family since it was built, other than general information, I don’t know as much about it as I should. We were hoping you could help.”
Mrs. Mowbray looked at him as if he had committed a sin. “You don’t know about your own house?”
“No,” he admitted. “The house was passed down through another branch of the family, so I’ve never been directly involved with it. All I could tell Alix is when it was built and by whom, but not much more than that.”
Mrs. Mowbray understood, somewhat. “Well,” she cocked her head thoughtfully. “When the new owner applied for the remodel permits, we looked into the history of the house and its significance, so I can tell you what we found out. What in particular did you have in mind?”
Alix and Cord looked at each other, shrugging. “Everything,” Alix finally said. “We’d like to know whatever you can tell us.”
Mrs. Mowbray indicated a table with some chairs around it. It was cluttered with neat stacks of books and historical periodicals, as every inch of the Historical Society seemed to be crammed with paper. The one-room office was full to bursting. As everyone took a seat, she began to speak.
“As I recall,” Mrs. Mowbray began, “Evenshade was built in 1690 by Ezra Hyde Holcombe, who was thirty-eight years old when he married fourteen-year-old Abigail Williams after she fled the Salem witch trials. She was one of the chief accusers, you know.”
Alix and Cord were listening intently. “I know,” Cord nodded. “And the house was already built when Ezra married Abigail.”
“Exactly.”
“And then they had four children – Elizabeth, Mary, Matilda and John. There was another daughter that died in infancy, but those four were the survivors. My branch of the family descends from John.”
Mrs. Mowbray nodded excitedly. “I remember hearing about that from Cecily back in the day. Anyway, because of Abigail’s association with the witch trials, people were hesitant to come around, so the Holcombes lived a rather isolated existence in the house and, eventually, it was rumored that Abigail herself was a witch.”
Cord lifted his eyebrows. “Interesting.”
“It’s true,” Mrs. Mowbray suddenly jumped up and scooted over to the cluttered desk. “But given the notoriety of the trials, one shouldn’t be surprised. Abigail, or Bebe as she was called by the family, was someone to be feared. She contributed to the death of a lot of people.”
Bebe. Cord thought. Wasn’t that something the ghostly Rose had said? But he didn’t voice his thoughts, watching instead as Mrs. Mowbray rooted around her desk, looking for something.
“In fact,” the woman finally pulled out a file folder and opened it up, reading the documentation as she headed back over to the table. “Sarah Good, one of the original accused, in particular, had it out for Abigail. There was bad blood between them ever since Goody Good caught Abigail stealing from them. Or, at least, that was what Sarah Good’s child testified to. That seemed to be why Abigail accused Goody Good of witchcraft and contributed to her death.”
Alix appeared both concerned and thoughtful. “I don’t know that much about the Salem Witch trials,” she admitted, “but it would make sense for the young girl to have it out for a woman who caught her stealing. But what does any of this have to do with the house?”
Mrs. Mowbray sat down, going through the papers in the file. “I’m getting to that,” she said, inspecting what appeared to be the copy of a very old document. Alix and Cord could see the carefully-written long hand. “Again, this testimony comes from Sarah Good’s daughter, Dorothy, but it appears that Sarah Good may have, indeed, had some hand in witchcraft. We have documentation that she cursed one of the judges at her trial, a man who died in the exact manner Goody Good had predicted. Additionally, Sarah Good was pregnant when she was imprisoned after the trial and gave birth to a daughter, Mercy, while in jail. Unfortunately, the baby didn’t survive long, I’m sure due to poor conditions and malnutrition, among other things. But the odd part of this story comes in Dorothy Good’s testimony after the death of her mother.”
Alix was hanging on the story. “What’s that?”
Mrs. Mowbray sighed faintly, reading the bottom of the document. “According to Dorothy, her mother told her husband, Dorothy’s father, that she intended to inhabit the body of the baby after her death and bring curse and ruin to Abigail. She instructed the husband to bury the infant’s body under Abigail’s house. Dorothy states that the husband held on to the infant’s corpse, storing it in the root cellar, until Sarah was hanged. Then, he kept track of Abigail as she fled Salem and when she married Ezra, the husband buried the baby’s remains under Evenshade so Goody Good could forever haunt Abigail.” She finally looked up from the photocopied document, smiling weakly at Alix and Cord. “Pretty morbid, I must say. But back then, the people were extremely superstitious so the suggestion of curses was taken very seriously.”
Alix was just staring at the woman. Beside her, Cord put his hand on her knee and gently squeezed her comfortingly in spite of what he was thinking. Mercy. Bebe. Both words the little ghost girl had said. Things were starting to make some sense and he wasn’t sure he was at all comfortable with what he was hearing, but for Alix’s sake, he kept on an even keel.
“That’s, uh, interesting,” he said. “Is there anything else about the house that we should know, history-wise?”
&nbs
p; Mrs. Mowbray looked back at her papers. “Let’s see,” she leafed through a few sheets. “The Holcombe family kept to themselves for a very long time. There’s a letter from General Gates, the Revolutionary War general, which was written from Evenshade, and means he probably spent the night there once. We also have documentation that Fredrick Douglas attended a supper at the home given in his honor. Did you know that the Holcombes were part of the abolitionist movement?”
Cord nodded. “I knew. In fact, we’ve had a lot of civil rights activists and suffragists in the family.”
Mrs. Mowbray returned to her papers. “The house has seen more than its share of history,” she confirmed. “It’s a significant part of the history of our nation.”
Cord watched the woman ruffle through her documents. “It sure is,” he agreed. “But beyond the history, are there any legends about it? You know – stories or hauntings – or anything?”
Mrs. Mowbray stopped going through the papers and looked at him, thoughtfully. “Nothing that’s been documented other than the curse from Sarah Good,” she said, “but I seem to recall hearing the place was haunted as a child. Just rumors, really. Everyone always called the place haunted but I imagine most of that was because it just looks like a haunted house. Why? Have you heard anything?”
Cord avoided the question. “What rumors about it have you heard?”
Mrs. Mowbray set the folder down completely as she pondered his question. “I seem to remember hearing the house was haunted by the ghost of a little girl,” she said. “When I was a child, the kids used to say the place was haunted by a girl in white, only she wasn’t really a little girl. She was Sarah Good returned to fulfill her curse. You haven’t happened to have seen a little girl in white, have you?”
She said it with a smile, teasingly. But Alix, having sat largely silent throughout the meeting, didn’t think it was a joke. She realized that she suddenly wasn’t feeling too well. The stories of curses and witches had her stomach in knots, and when the woman asked the question, she simply shook her head and stood up from the table.
Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology Page 238
