“You said you found these under the floor boards in the attic?” he asked.
Cord nodded. “On the day Alix and I got married, Rose got trapped up in the attic,” he said. “When we finally found her, she was sitting near a floor board that was partially pulled away. This is what was underneath it.”
Quirt stroked his chin, eyeing the documents on the desk. “How did Rosie get trapped up in the attic?”
“She said the sad girl took her up there,” Cord replied. “She said the sad girl needed to call her mother. She probably meant that the sad girl needed to talk to her mother, or maybe even summon her mother, but she used the word ‘call’.”
Quirt inhaled slowly, thoughtfully. His gaze was still fixed on the desktop. “And the floor boards were pulled up right next to her?”
“Yes. Why?”
Quirt cocked an eyebrow. “Because,” he said, swinging the chair around so he was facing Cord, “I’ll tell you what I think. These curses were written in blood, because that’s how you write an effective curse, and I’m going to theorize that it was Abigail Williams who did it. Who else could it be? It has Sarah Good, William Good, and Dorothy Good’s names on it. Plus, I swear I see the name of Rebecca Nurse, who was another woman accused of witchcraft during the Salem witch trials. Here; let me read you the one that has Sarah’s name attached to it as ‘Goody Goode’.”
Cord held his breath as Quirt picked up the second parchment and held it under the light. “A breath of wind, a mark of sin, evil doer drink of blood. Beneath the earth, feel my curse, with my hand to ’ever crush you,” he said. “Malum infans, putrescet Satanae ut canis. Te et matrem tuam aeternum ardebit.”
Cord thought hard on the Latin translation; he had learned the language as a child, the language of the Casters, and it took very little for him to recall what he knew. He had a strong gift of recall and a nearly photographic memory. Puzzled, he looked at his father.
“Evil Infant,” he muttered, “rot as Satan’s dog? Burn with your mother for eternity in hell?”
Quirt nodded. “Very good,” he said. “That about sums it up.”
Cord began to feel a heavy sense of foreboding. It was nearly oppressive and he actually put his hand to his chest, feeling fear as he had never felt in his life.
“Christ,” he hissed. “She’s talking about being beneath the earth and crushing with her hand, like… like someone was buried and she was sitting on top of them, keeping them down.”
“Like the stone circle over the grave that was supposed to keep the infant rising up.”
Cord thought on that, hard. Then, he started to shake his head as pieces of the malevolent puzzle began to come together. Suddenly, things were becoming clearer and he couldn’t help the flood of emotions that washed over him as a result. But there were some aspects that were still foggy. It was going to drive him crazy if he didn’t figure them out.
“Wait a minute,” he said, voicing the thoughts that were filling his head. “This doesn’t make any sense. You said that Abigail laid down that stone circle to keep the infant, Mercy, from coming out of the grave and thereby fulfilling Sarah Good’s curse that she would inhabit the dead body of her infant after her own death and haunt Abigail. But, clearly, there is a ghost girl in our house. What if… what if it’s not Mercy at all? What if it’s the other little girl in this scenario, the one who took the infant to Abigail’s house at her mother’s request? What if our ghost girl is actually Dorothy Good?”
Quirt pondered that revelation. “But how? She’s not buried on the property.”
Cord’s mind was moving swiftly. “That we know of,” he said. “In fact, Alix told me that Mrs. Mowbray told her that there’s no record of what happened to Dorothy Good. For all we know, she’s hanging around Evenshade because of the terrible things done to her mother and sister. Maybe it’s been her all along pretending to be Mercy.”
Quirt lifted his eyebrows. “It makes sense,” he said. “The infant, and consequently Sarah Good, are suppressed under that stone circle and presumably can’t get out, yet there’s a ghost of a girl running around. Didn’t you say that when Rose was trapped in the attic, the sad girl told Rose that she had to call her mother?”
Cord was electrified by the thought. “Yes!” he exclaimed, as if it had all suddenly come clear. “That’s what she said; that the ghost girl wanted to call her mother. Dorothy Good is trying to release the curse on her mother, which is why she took Rose to the attic to retrieve the curse that was buried under the floor board. Don’t you destroy a curse by burning it or otherwise destroying whatever it’s written on?”
Quirt nodded firmly. “Throw it in the fire, dissolve it in water,” he said. “She could have had Rose do any of those things. She’s using Alix’s daughter to free her mother and unleash her on the house and the descendants of Abigail Williams.”
Cord’s mouth popped open in shock. “Oh, God,” he breathed. “If that’s the case, then what can we do?”
Quirt stood up, setting his glasses on the desk as he began to collect the antique papers. Something told him to bring them along.
“We need to get over to the house,” he said. “Call Alix and tell her to go to a hotel with the girls. Get them out of there. That ghostly girl is trying to unleash hell over there.”
Cord was already on the move.
* * *
The storm that had been brewing since Cord’s departure let loose about twenty minutes after he left. There was thunder and lightning, filling the sky with turbulence.
Alix ignored the downpour as she continued packing for the little ones and for herself. The boys had gravitated into the master bedroom where Chris now sat on an overstuffed chair, holding Kitty, while Sean and Kyle entertained Rose. When she wanted to go back into her bedroom, they followed. Cole remained with Chris, watching little Kitty as Alix finished packing.
A massive roll of thunder shook the house, followed by great flashes of lightning. Alix finished up with her bag, gazing out of the window and watching the rain pound. Then she looked at her watch, noticing that Cord had been gone almost an hour.
“Your dad should be back soon,” she said, turning to the boys. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”
Chris shook his head. “We’ll be fine here,” he said. “That little ghost girl isn’t going to start anything with me.”
Alix grinned, moving over to the chair and gazing down at her contented daughter as she suckled her pacifier furiously, staring off into space. She put her hand on Chris’ shoulder.
“You’re a good big brother,” she said. “You can have babysitting duty any time.”
He grinned, looking at the blond-haired infant. “I’m okay unless I have to change diapers,” he said, seeing Cole standing next to him out of the corner of his eye. “Cole can do it. He gets the dirty work.”
Cole wrinkled up his nose and moved swiftly for the door. “No way, dude,” he said. “I’m not doing any of that.”
Alix laughed, watching Cole bolt down the stairs, undoubtedly heading for the den and the video games. He took any chance he could to play when Chris and Kyle weren’t around because they tended to take everything over, including him. Alix bent over and gently took her daughter from Chris.
“Okay,” she said. “You’re free to go now.”
Chris stood up from the chair, watching Alix as she headed over to the bassinet. “I don’t mind,” he said. “Like I said, as long as she doesn’t stink, I’m good.”
Alix snorted as she lay the baby down and rolled her onto her side. “I’ve got news for you,” she said. “They all stink at one time or another. You can’t get away from it.”
“That’s why I have three little brothers to take care of that,” he said. He watched Alix as she doted over the baby. “Uh… will you be okay up here if I go downstairs?”
Alix waved him off. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll yell if I need you.”
“Okay.”
He left the room, heading downstairs
to commandeer the video controller from his weaker, younger brother. Alix turned to watch him go, thinking he was a pretty good kid. In fact, she had lucked out where her stepsons were concerned; they were all very good boys and she loved them. She was a very fortunate woman.
Kitty wasn’t happy in her bassinet and started to fuss, so Alix bent over to pat the baby on the back, trying to calm her down. She could hear Rose and the boys across the hall in Rose’s room, messing around. Somebody dropped something because she could hear the thump, followed by a muttered apology. The commotion was comforting. It made the frightening events that happened earlier seem a million miles away. Peace was once again settling.
Alix sighed, still patting the baby as the infant seemed to calm. Maybe she was overreacting about the whole thing; they’d gone the past six months without a single paranormal experience, so maybe this was just a flare up, quick to rise and quick to leave. She truly hoped so because she didn’t want to leave her house. This was her home and something worth fighting for. When Cord got back, she would talk to him about it. She was starting to think she’d blown the entire thing out of proportion.
“Mom?” Sean was standing in the second doorway that faced the kitchen stairs. “We’re going to go downstairs and play video games.”
Alix looked over her shoulder at him. “Okay,” she said. “Where’s Rose?”
“She’s going with us.”
“Good. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“I won’t.”
The kids headed down the back stairs about the time baby Kitty seemed to fall asleep. Alix carefully stopped patting and removed her hand, being very quiet as she moved. Kitty seemed to be a light sleeper. Closing both bedroom doors, she remained in the bedroom but went into the bathroom to take a quick shower and change. She knew Cord would be back any minute and she wanted to be ready.
As the door to the bathroom closed and the sounds of the shower could be heard, the thunder and rain pounded the old house. The upper floor was relatively quiet except for the shower while downstairs, the comforting sounds of zombie screams and gunfire could be heard. Evenshade was settling back to normal and even the dogs, in their permanent places on the living room couches, were snoring away. Until Aram’s eyes opened and his head came up.
Dark doggy eyes stared at the front staircase, dog senses reaching out to hear or see or feel. Sounds from the video games were loud in the living room, but that’s not what had Aram’s ears up and his nose twitching. There was something else, something only he could sense.
Quietly, he got off the couch and wandered over to the stairwell, looking up to the second floor. He could hear the shower going up there. Sniffing at the air, he trotted up the stairs and came to a halt at the top of the landing. His attention was on Chris’ bedroom door.
Down below, Manitou was up. Whatever had Aram up had him up as well. He moved swiftly, racing up the stairs to the top of the landing where Aram was. Both dogs moved towards Chris’ bedroom door but came to an abrupt halt when the door slowly creaked open.
Aram bared his teeth menacingly, growling at what he could only see as a black, writhing mass. To the human eye, it was invisible, but to his dog senses, it was something black and frightening. Manitou saw it, too, and he began to snarl.
The mass retreated into Chris’ bedroom but didn’t close the door. The dogs, their hackles up and still snarling, followed. They entered the room, seeing the black mass near the closet door that led up to the attic. The mass moved away from the door and skirted the wall, moving up to the ceiling and hovering over them. Aram barked savagely, followed by Manitou. Manitou even lunged at it. But quickly, the black mass darted towards the bedroom door and shot through it, out into the corridor. The bedroom door slammed behind it, trapping the confused and frightened dogs inside Chris’ room. Manitou went to the door and scratched at it, whining. But nobody heard him.
In the den below, Rose was sitting on the couch as all four of her brothers played a gory zombie apocalypse game. It was too scary and gory for her, so she didn’t want to watch it and quickly became bored. She got a hold of a pen on the end table and scribbled on a magazine that was there, drawing doodles over a woman’s face. Over her shoulder, her brothers were on a killing spree, congratulating each other on messy kills. Rose continued to scribble.
“Rose!”
She heard her name, like a soft breath of wind. It had come from the den door and she looked up but didn’t see anyone. Returning to her doodles, she heard her name again.
“Rose, hitherto!”
Looking up, she saw the sad girl standing just outside the doorway. Dressed in her usual white dress with a smock-like apron over it, the sad girl’s long, dark hair hung to her waist while her pale face with dark, shiny eyes gazed steadily at Rose. When she smiled, it wasn’t with sharp teeth but with a sweet little grin. She motioned to Rose, who promptly set the pen down and climbed off the couch. The brothers, completely focused on their zombie game, never noticed when she left the room because their backs were to the door. Rose left and they were never the wiser.
Out in the dim corridor that ran between the living room and the den and library, Rose walked up to the sad girl.
“Good day, Rose,” the sad girl whispered.
Rose didn’t say anything at first. Then, she cocked her head. “I don’t want to play with you anymore,” she said.
The sad girl’s smile faded. “My truest Rose,” she murmured. “My mother is very sad. She needs help.”
Rose could hear her brothers yelling behind her. “I don’t want to help,” she said.
“But my mother is sad. Doest thee not know concern? Only thou may help her.”
“I don’t wanna.”
The sad girl was clever. “But thou must,” she insisted. “If thou does not, terrible things will happen to thee’s mother. Is that what thee wishes?”
Rose’s brow furrowed with concern, with anger. “No!”
“Help me now or terrible things will occur!”
“No, don’t!”
The sad girl could see Rose’s agitation. It was as she had desired; the reaction of raw fear. She knew the feeling well. She fed off it, drawing strength from it.
“The infant,” she whispered. “You must bring her to my mother. She wishes to see her.”
Rose was frightened and confused. “I can’t. My mommy won’t let me.”
“But you must. The infant will make my mother well again. You must help her.”
Rose looked at the sad girl dubiously. “Where is your mommy?”
“We shall see her.”
The sad girl moved away from Rose, with legs that were mist and didn’t touch the ground. Rose followed her into the kitchen, dimly lit as the storm pounded outside. The sad girl pointed a bony finger at the basement door.
“Bring the infant,” she whispered.
Rose shook her head again, fearfully, but the sad girl seemed to shape-shift into something more frightening and ominous.
“Bring the infant,” she said, her voice otherworldly and deep. “If thou does not, terrible things will happen to thee’s mother.”
Rose was tearing up. “I’m going to tell my brother what you said!”
The sad girl had no sympathy. “If thou does, I will kill them and make them go away forever. Is this what thee wishes?”
Rose wiped furiously at her eyes as the tears started to fall. She could only shake her head. Terrified, she reluctantly headed up the back stairs.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Alix got out of the shower and quickly dried off, pulling the clip out of her hair and brushing it back into a quick ponytail. Changing into skinny jeans and a big sweater, she came out of the bathroom and headed over to the bassinet to check on Kitty. She was halfway across the room when the doorbell went off. Diverted from the bassinet, she opened the door that faced out onto the landing that contained the back steps. Over to her right were the main upstairs hall and the front stairs. As the rain pounded, she scooted down
the stairs and opened the front door.
Mrs. Mowbray stood on the porch, her half-closed umbrella in her hand. The woman was positively soaked. Alix quickly ushered her in, closing the door behind her and shutting out the wind and the rain.
“Good heavens,” Alix exclaimed. “What on earth brings you out on a day like today?”
Mrs. Mowbray smiled weakly, showing off those great yellowed teeth. “I’m so sorry to barge in like this.”
Alix shook her head as she took the woman’s dripping umbrella and put it in the umbrella receptacle. “No bother at all,” she said. “How have you been? It’s been a long time since we last saw you.”
Mrs. Mowbray nodded, her movements sharp and bird-like. “Back in December,” she said. “I heard you and Mr. Trevor got married.”
Alix smiled. “We did,” she said. “I just had a baby a couple of weeks ago.”
Mrs. Mowbray threw up her hands. “Heavens!” she said. “Congratulations. You must be extremely busy. I’ll only take a moment of your time, I promise.”
Alix led her into the living room with its lush furnishings. “No problem,” she said. “My husband should be home any minute and we have plans after that, but until then, I’m all yours.”
Mrs. Mowbray had a leather briefcase with her. She perched on the edge of Alix’s couch and began opening the case. “Well,” she said, “I’ll get right to the point. As you have figured out, I am quite fascinated with the history of this house. The last time I was here it was because I’d discovered new information on the house and that’s why I’m here today. A colleague of mine at the Historical Society reminded me that today is the day that, three hundred and twenty-one years ago, Sarah Good was hung for witchcraft. Did you realize that?”
Alix’s smile faded and somewhere in the pit of her stomach, a seed of fear sprouted. “No, I didn’t,” she said evenly. “How… interesting.”
“I thought you might like to know that,” Mrs. Mowbray said, not catching on to the apprehensive inflection in Alix’s tone. She seemed quite jovial as she pulled a leather pouch out of her briefcase. “As you saw at the Historical Society, we have lots of boxes and files containing priceless pieces of Salem’s history. While I was working through a box that had been long stored away, I came across this leather pouch with a note on it. It seems that this pouch contains the actual amulet worn by Abigail Williams to ward off Goody Good’s curse. Oh, it was a well-known curse back then because nearly everyone who was hung for witchcraft spun some sort of threats or curse before they went to the gallows. Our boxes are full of charms and amulets to ward off curses and evil. Since you own the house now where the curse is said to reside, I thought you might like to have it.”
Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology Page 250
