The Haunting of Waverly Hall

by Michael Richan

  Eliza followed her, relating the tale of the past two days. Aceveda didn’t interrupt her, and when they arrived in the library, a pot of tea was waiting. Aceveda lifted the pot’s lid to inspect the tea while Eliza finished her story.

  “After all that I’ve taught you,” Aceveda said, “you should have known that the legend shelf would have stopped you. Why would you create a spectacle out there on the sidewalk like that? Think!” She tapped at her forehead.

  “I guess I’m still trying to get used to the idea that there’s something evil inside me,” she replied.

  “A very lame excuse,” Aceveda said. “I would expect better from someone smart like you. I’m not tutoring you because you’re stupid.”

  “No, I know.”

  “Well then.”

  “Sorry.”

  Aceveda poured the tea. “The tall man is obviously the shaman,” Aceveda said, handing a cup to Eliza.

  “You think so?” Eliza asked.

  Aceveda sighed. “This day will be intolerable if it continues this stupidly,” she muttered, turning to pour her own cup. “Of course he’s the shaman.”

  “They said he was gone,” Eliza replied.

  “If there’s one take-away from your little story, it’s that everyone seems to lie about this thing. Let’s not be naïve and believe a powerful shaman capable of setting up such a complex ritual is out of the picture just because this Scray character claimed it. Kanontsistontie materials are extremely rare and powerful, highly prized by dark practitioners. He may well have used them to increase his longevity. It’s a common objective and occurrence amongst that ilk.”

  “Ma’am,” came the low tones of Alistair. Eliza turned; the butler was lurking in the darkness of the library, just out of sight. “The car will be here in twenty minutes.”

  “Thank you,” Aceveda said to Alistair. Eliza heard the sounds of a door latch. “This is such bad timing,” Aceveda continued. “I have a flight in a couple of hours. We can’t talk for long.”

  “I want to confront him,” Eliza said. “If the tall man is who Scray went to talk to, I want to talk to him too. I need to get past the skulls he’s using as sentries. At least I think they’re sentries; they didn’t seem pleased when I approached the door.”

  “Oh they’re most certainly sentries,” Aceveda said. “If you raise their alarm, you’ll likely have the entire hall’s population of Kanontsistonties raining down on you. You’re going to need something to get you past them.”

  Eliza felt herself release an internal sigh of relief as Aceveda seemed to side with her.

  “Do you think he’s using a legend shelf?” Eliza asked.

  “Hard to say. Sounds like he already has a pretty effective ring of protection. It may be adequate to protect anything he’s fearful of. The more powerful you are the more confidence you have in your own ability to protect yourself.”

  “What can I do?” Eliza asked.

  Aceveda rose from her seat and placed her cup of tea on the table by the pot. “Come with me to the lab,” she said, leaving the library and walking to another room. Eliza set down her tea and followed her through the house.

  After meandering through hallways and past other rooms, Aceveda unlocked a set of double doors and threw them open. Beyond was a large room cluttered with tables and projects. The walls were lined with multi-colored glass canisters.

  “Wow,” Eliza said, walking inside.

  “You’ve not seen this room because we’ve been working on locks and legend shelves,” Aceveda said. “I don’t have time to introduce you to everything in here properly and still make my flight. You’ll have to let me do my own thing.”

  “Sure,” Eliza said, watching as Aceveda collected a few objects and pulled some of the glass jars from the walls. She mixed ingredients together, routinely examining the results by holding a beaker under some type of magnifying device. A round ball began to form in the beaker, about the size of a plum.

  “Now for the hard part,” Aceveda said, searching the walls. She pulled a ladder into position at a spot along the farthest wall, and climbed to the top, examining the labels on the jars. Finally, she reached for one and pulled it from the shelf.

  “Oh, you are lucky,” Aceveda said, descending the ladder. When she reached the ground, she held up the jar for Eliza to see. It looked almost empty, except for a tiny amount of white powder at the bottom.

  “What is that?” Eliza asked.

  “Ground Kanontsistontie skull,” Aceveda replied, walking back to her workbench. “Ground using a special mortar and pestle, and harvested on the birthday of the human being the skull once belonged to.” She opened the lid of the container and held it over the beaker that contained the plum. Small white dust fell from the glass jar, lightly coating the plum.

  Aceveda replaced the lid on the jar. “Haven’t used this in decades. It’s rarely needed. Of course it’s hard to get, too.” She set the jar on the table, then picked up the beaker and rolled the plum around inside it, allowing it to absorb all of the dust.

  “That’ll get me past them?” Eliza asked, watching as Aceveda worked.

  “Now listen,” Aceveda said, still rolling the plum around. “Before you go into the hall, well before any of them can see you, you’re going to hold this over your head, right at the very top, and you’re going to press it slowly into your skull until it breaks. Capiche?”

  “Capiche,” Eliza replied. “What will happen?”

  “More juice than you can possibly imagine will run out of it, covering you entirely. You’ll stand still and let it run all over you until it’s done, and you’re completely coated. Got that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t get all anxious and move before it’s finished. Wait until there’s no more juice coming out.”

  “Got it.”

  “This is tuned precisely to the Kanontsistonties. Every other entity will still be able to see you, keep that in mind.”

  “OK.”

  “I’d say you’ve got ten minutes at most before it wears off. You’ll want to be long gone from the hall by then.”

  “Right.”

  “Ma’am?” Alistair’s voice erupted softly from the door. “The car is here.”

  “Please load the bags and I’ll be there in just a moment,” Aceveda replied. She reached into the beaker and removed the plum, giving it a small squeeze, then she handed it to Eliza.

  Eliza gave it a small squeeze too, imitating Aceveda. It felt a little like a water balloon.

  “There,” Aceveda said. “That’s the best I can do for you on short notice. You’ll have to go out the way you came in. And protect that thing; don’t let it burst before you need it.”

  “I won’t,” Eliza said. “And thank you.”

  Aceveda began walking out of the lab. “I expect you to be free of this thing by the time I get back, which is next week. I’ve invested too much in you to lose you to crazed cannibal ghosts. It won’t do.”

  “No,” Eliza replied. “I’ll do my best.”

  And with that, Aceveda was out of the room and gone.

  She made her way back through the house and to the rear entrance that led to the backyard. Fall had removed much of the color from the gardens since the last time she remembered seeing them. When she reached the iron door, she opened it and walked through, reaching back for the door to pull it shut.

  Alistair was suddenly there, shutting the door for her. “I’ll close the hole above the stump as soon as you pass through it,” he said, smiling. “I do hope you’re able to sort things out. I know how to reach her while she’s away, if something happens and you need to contact her.”

  “Thank you, Alistair,” Eliza replied, smiling. “I appreciate it.”

  The door closed and the lock clicked as it engaged. She turned to find the stump so she could make her way back to the car.

  ●

  Eliza pressed down on the plum, feeling it flatten under her hand as it popped. Its contents began to pour down over her
face.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, as the thick substance passed over her features. She was surprised at its volume.

  “It’s red,” Granger observed. “Looks like blood.”

  “Great,” Eliza replied. “I probably look like Carrie.”

  “Worse,” Robert said. “It just keeps coming.”

  She felt the hot liquid continue to pour from the top of her head, so she kept her eyes closed as it cascaded down her face, coating her body. It was soaking through her clothes.

  “Jesus Christ,” Granger said. “Does it ever stop?”

  By the time the liquid slowed several moments later, Eliza was completely drenched.

  “I’m tempted to rub it from my eyes,” she said, “but maybe that’s a bad idea. Maybe I should just drop into the River like this.”

  “Probably,” Robert replied. “We’ll watch you, don’t worry.”

  Eliza let herself slip into the flow and the sensation of the hot, sticky liquid left her. As she left her body, she turned to inspect it.

  Far worse than Carrie! she thought. You can’t even see my face!

  Granger and Robert were standing within a couple of feet, watching her closely. She felt protected. Between the tokens of the gateways, which she’d just passed through, and this new cloak provided by Aceveda, she felt as though she could easily sneak past anything.

  Turning, she moved toward the hall. Inside the doors, she slowly traversed the hallway, expecting to hear the rustling of feathers she’d heard on previous visits. This time there was no sound; if anything knew she was there, it wasn’t reacting.

  At the end of the dark hallway, she came to the door she’d watched Scray pass through the night before. Glancing up, her eyes searched for the skulls positioned above the door. Can’t quite make them out, she thought, but I know they’re there.

  She approached the door, her senses heightened, listening for the first indication of detection — wings opening, or bones chattering. All remained still and quiet.

  The door offered no resistance, and she passed through, directly into a stairwell that led up. She followed it as it twisted back on itself, finally arriving at the top floor of the hall. It was a short hallway with two doors on either side. She chose the closest one, and found a small closet behind it, empty.

  Backing out of it, she turned and passed through the other door.

  She was completely unprepared for what she found inside.

  The room didn’t appear as a room at all; it seemed almost like a cave, the walls curved and irregular. They were coated with a black substance that was slowly dripping, giving the entire space a feeling of constant, slow motion. Hanging from the ceiling were dozens of herbs, drying. A small fire burned inside a ring of stones near the far end of the room, casting a dancing light on the walls, adding to the effect of the motion.

  She felt disoriented, as though she’d entered a strange room in a fun house, designed to screw with perception.

  By the fire were three huts, constructed of animal hides. A figure emerged from one of them, carrying a piece of white bone and a tool that looked like the claw of a hammer. He walked to the fire, and Eliza got a good look at him: small, old, hunched over. His eyes were frosted, and she wondered if he was blind.

  He paused, raising his head as though he was listening for something. As she watched, he transformed into a tall, thin man, dressed in a black jacket. His features were dark but youthful.

  He turned to her.

  Ah, he said, the bone and tool still in his hands. Our new Gloria. He walked to a wooden table and set the bone down on it. Do you know what this is, new Gloria? He spoke with a slow, deliberate diction that almost had the quality of an accent.

  He clearly knows I’m here, she thought. She drifted closer until she could see what he was referring to; the bone he’d placed on the table was curved, but she couldn’t identify it.

  Everyone talks about sustainability, he said. The tribes never took more than the population could support, so it’s a concept we’ve understood for a very long time. If you kill off all your food, it can’t reproduce and keep going. White men call it sustainability. You understand the concept, right, new Gloria?

  She didn’t respond.

  This is one of the flying dead, from downstairs, the man said, pointing to the piece of bone on the table. He pressed the edge of the tool against the bone and scraped. When they don’t eat, they don’t shed any feathers, so I have to take parts of them by force. This one I captured last year. His feathers are used up already, so now I’m slowly working on the skull itself. This is what’s left. Scray was becoming terrified over the past few years, as I picked off some of his followers. I was anticipating that I’d have to kill another one in a few months, but that was before Scray finally convinced your friend to betray you. Now they’ll begin to shed their feathers once again, and I can go back to a more sustainable practice.

  She didn’t speak, but watched as he continued to scrape a thin white dust from the chunk of bone.

  Cat got your tongue? he asked. Or just nothing to say?

  You’re the shaman who Scray made the deal with, Eliza said. The deal that allows him and his followers to eat people, even though they’re all dead.

  Dead is such a relative term, the man replied, smiling at her. Do you think I’m dead?

  You’re not the man I’m looking at, she answered. I saw you before you transformed.

  It’s a form I prefer when talking with white people, he replied.

  It’s the form you used when you convinced Gloria to kill Peter, Eliza said.

  He chuckled. Peter? Was that his name? He went back to scraping the bone.

  You tricked her, Eliza said.

  She fell for it, he replied. She was running out of bodies, and he was right there, available. I merely helped move things along.

  Why? she asked.

  He paused. You know, I should have died over a hundred years ago. Yet, here I am, still going. Don’t you think that’s a good reason?

  Endlessly consuming the Kanontsistonties? she asked. Why? What’s the point?

  You white people have an innate skill for hypocrisy, he replied. Don’t talk to me about endless consumption.

  That doesn’t answer my question.

  You’re not entitled to an answer, he replied. You don’t have any idea what’s really going on here, what I’m capable of, and what I’m preparing to do. If you want to live, you’ll bring those infernal cannibals the meat they require. That’s all you need to know.

  What do you mean, what you’re preparing to do? she asked. What?

  Aliashna, he replied.

  She shook her head. What’s that?

  We are not equals, you and I, he replied. Yes, you snuck in here, I credit you that. I’ll train the cannibals to detect this agent you used, so don’t think you’ll be coming back in anytime soon. I operate on a whole different level than you, an entirely different plane. Your task is to conduct the mundane. My time is spent on loftier objectives.

  If you want me to feed them, Eliza said, I want an explanation.

  You don’t have a choice, he replied. You’ll feed them regardless.

  I presume you’d rather I do it with enthusiasm, rather than trying to find ways to resist it.

  I don’t care if you hate every minute of it, he said. Besides, you can’t resist it. It’s too powerful.

  Doesn’t mean I can’t find ways to, she replied. I found a way in here, didn’t I?

  He paused, thinking. You’re saying an answer is all you require in order to become compliant and committed? I doubt that.

  I’m saying an answer might be a way to gain an ally and not an enemy. Having enemies won’t help what you’re trying to do here.

  He laughed. I have enemies far, far more significant than you. He paused again. You are determined, I give you that. Your determination is born of your new obligations, the compulsion Scray gave you. You are no natural ally of mine, and if you could end the compulsion, I don’t dou
bt that you’d align yourself against me. So, new Gloria, you have no bargaining power, and I have no reason to trust or inform you.

  He resumed his scraping of the bone. The tool came down hard, and a large piece of the bone chipped off.

  Damn, he said, lowering the tool. He paused for a moment, as though he was organizing his thoughts. I do respect that you made your way to me. Old Gloria never really did that. Scray had a habit of becoming lazy and ineffective at times, and I had to go to her, to prompt her to kill and keep things flowing. I could have forced you from here the moment you arrived, but I wanted to see how your mind worked. You’re predictable, but you’re not stupid.

  Thanks, she replied. I think.

  You do not know what Aliashna is, he said. That much is obvious. That is the only answer I will give you. Aliashna. Once you understand that, things will clear up for you. Now, go. There is nothing more to discuss.

  I still… Eliza began.

  If you do not go on your own, he interrupted, I will make you go. It will be unpleasant.

  She turned, heading for the entrance to the room.

  Oh, new Gloria, he called. She stopped. Do your job and don’t come back here again, understand?

  She turned and left him, floating across the room and to the upstairs hallway. When she found the stairwell, she descended and passed through the door.

  The skulls above her screamed in reaction and launched from their posts, flying down at her. She accelerated, passing down the hallway and out the front door, the sound of their flapping wings following her the whole way.

  She dropped from the River and reached up to wipe the thick liquid from her eyes. She was surprised to find nothing there.

  “It evaporated,” Robert said. “There’s not a sign of it anywhere on you now.”

  Eliza scanned her body, holding up her arms. Robert was right; the liquid was completely gone. Used up.

  “Well?” Granger asked. “Did you learn anything?”

  “Did you convince him to shut Scray down?” Robert asked.

  “Hardly,” she replied. “Has either of you ever heard of Aliashna?”

  Granger and Robert looked at each other. “No,” they both replied in unison.