If it does not, perhaps I am the lunatic Elizabeth Hawthorne claims. I am convinced she is the force behind the wagging rumors of my mental instability. The pastor has done me few favors since his arrival, the wretch. He’s slurred my character and, most recently, given me a terrible fear of the dark, something that has not plagued me since I was a child.
The first day of my return to the church, the pastor berated me for abandoning my lessons. He yelled so much that spittle struck my face, and he does not have the most pleasant breath, I assure you. The spring church festival was upon us, and Elizabeth and her awful coven were decorating the pews with flowers when I arrived. I was able to ignore their unkind whispering, but when the pastor shouted at me, they had the audacity to snicker. I glanced at them, but instead of punishing them for their rudeness, the pastor grew more incensed with me because, as he put it, I “lacked the necessary discipline to listen to holy instruction.”
There was no instruction, Constance; he only shouted at me for avoiding his company a week, but before I could say as much he dragged me through the church and to the basement door.
I will not tell you that I didn’t struggle, for that would be a lie, but the basement is foreboding, more a dungeon than not. It frightens me. It smells like Mother’s herbs when they go to rot, and the stone walls are covered in mold. He thrust me down the stairs, and I stumbled into all sorts of strange miscellanea: a mirror, an old pew, an old bookshelf, a box of idols. I’m surprised I didn’t break my neck upon the refuse. The floor had puddles of water, and there were awful beetles everywhere. Some of them even crawled on me. I doubt I’ll forget the feeling of them scuttling over my skin.
“You’ll be lucky to see the light of day again,” he told me as he closed the door. I begged for release, thinking perhaps he lingered on the other side, but he was gone. There was laughter instead. It was Elizabeth and her odious friends. She called to me through the door, mocking me as I sat in the cold wet. It injured my pride, but I pleaded with her to let me out. She insisted she couldn’t do that else she make the pastor cross. Her assurances that I would be released sooner or later were hollow and cruel.
I spent hours in the dark, my eyes fixed upon the empty mirror. Do you remember Mother’s insistence that we cover the mirrors when Father took ill? Her superstitions about his dying before the glass? I thought it ridiculous at the time, but during those bleak hours, I came to understand her fears. A lightless mirror is a terrifying thing. There is no reflection, only black glass. Like an abyss. It’s endless and consuming.
I haven’t told Mother about what happened with the pastor. If she confronts him for his cruelty, he could contact Mrs. Grant again and we will be destitute. If she confronts the Hawthornes about Elizabeth’s behavior, they bring their own complications. Mayor Hawthorne is not a nice man, and I doubt he’d believe ill of his Elizabeth.
I am sorry that my letters are so glum lately. The prospect of visiting you brightens every one of my dark days. I sometimes dream of staying in the city with you, but I am not sure I could leave Mother alone, especially with Pastor Starkcrowe’s lascivious gaze upon her. Perhaps your letters will convince her that the air in Solomon’s Folly grows toxic. You always were more influential than I.
Write soon, and give Edward my love. I adore you, Sister Mine.
Mary
Cody watched me leave from the porch, her hand lifted in a half wave of stubbed fingers and scarred palm. Her eye flitted over her yard, like she couldn’t believe she was actually outside of her door without having to worry about Mary’s assailing her from every angle. I couldn’t tell if it was relief or fear on her face.
“Thank you,” I called to her. Reading Mary’s letter, hearing Cody’s story, I felt worse than I had before I’d come. Everything looked so bleak. Seeing Cody holed up in that run-down house with those flies, that smell, the blackened windows…It was a sobering peek into my future.
“Don’t forget the pigs’ blood. And the salt,” she called out.
“I won’t,” I said, approaching Kitty’s car. Kitty had fallen asleep in her seat, her phone propped on her chest, face pointed at the sunroof. It wasn’t until I knocked on the door that she darted up, her sunglasses flying off her nose to strike the window. Seeing that it was me and not a killer ghost come to maim her, she relaxed and unlocked the door before fumbling for her sunglasses. I started to climb in, but Cody called to me again. I paused, glancing back at the woman standing on the porch.
“One thing: tell your friend to stop calling me. I warned her.”
Cody ducked back into her house. A moment later, I saw her tear a sheet of black paper off of the front window.
“So how did it go?” Kitty asked, easing the SUV out of the driveway and onto the empty street. I didn’t answer her. Cody’s gray house slipped out of view. Leaving felt wrong. Cody knew more about my situation than I did, and there was an illusion of safety being near her. I couldn’t stay with her, of course, but a part of me desperately wished I could.
“Not good. I’m haunted, which I sort of knew, but I need to talk to Jess and Anna, tonight maybe, though I have to…ugh. Jess.” It was more a ramble than a sentence, but Kitty nodded all the same, her hands tightening on the steering wheel.
“Did she say what we could do about Mary?”
“No, just how I got haunted. She only got rid of Mary when I got marked, which I guess is how the haunting is passed. It’s messed up. She also gave me another letter from Mary to her sister. It’s dark. You can read it tonight with Jess and Anna,” I explained. Kitty was fine with waiting, which made me grateful I’d gone with Kitty instead of Anna or Jess. They were far less patient.
The only information I didn’t share was that Cody told me to leave my friends. I didn’t want to freak Kitty out or make her think she was going to die being in the car with me. It wasn’t like Kitty would leave me on the side of the road, but like the letter, it was another conversation to have with the group. It’d hurt enough to say it one time, never mind multiple times.
I hesitated before texting Jess. I knew I shouldn’t talk to her. She’d endangered me. She’d heard the warnings from Cody and ignored them. The thing was, I knew Jess. She was my oldest friend and she hadn’t meant to get anyone hurt—especially not me. She was reckless, but Jess had always been reckless. She screwed up a lot, but she always made good on it later. Maybe she could make good on this, too. Maybe she could help me survive the ghost.
Need to talk. Your place tonight? I typed.
Seconds later, my phone buzzed.
Bring overnight bag. Call for ride. TTYL.
I was willing to give Jess a chance, but I didn’t want to be alone with her right now, either. I wanted normal people around me to buffer whatever crap she threw my way, and there’d be crap. Excuses, apologies, lies.
Kitty and Anna? I sent.
Sure.
I tossed my phone into my bag and leaned the car seat back so I was as far away from the windows as I could be. “I’m going to Jess’s tonight to talk about Mary. She wants to help. You want to come?”
“Okay,” Kitty said, easing the car onto the highway.
“Cool. I’ll let you talk Anna into it.”
Kitty groaned. “I’ll talk to her. We don’t need to be fighting with one another right now.”
“No, we really don’t.”
There were no Mary sightings in the car or in my apartment. I wasn’t naive enough to believe she wasn’t nearby, watching and waiting. I grabbed an overnight bag, keeping my eyes away from my vanity. It was still covered, but I knew what could be under there. Some people might be tempted to lift the robe to check, but I wasn’t. I never wanted to lift the robe again.
Before I left, I snagged my salt shaker from the nightstand. Cody said to keep salt on hand at all times, and unlike Jess, I tended to listen to the people who were trying to keep me alive.
Kitty had to swing to her house for clothes, too. I waited for her in the middle of her long driveway, the salt
in the cradle of my folded legs. The pavement was warm on my butt, and I tilted my head to the sun, keeping my back to the wall of shrubs. Kitty took her sweet time in the house, but I was all right with that. Outside felt safe, free from shiny surfaces.
I messaged my mom while I waited so she’d know where I was going tonight.
<3 u, staying w/Jess 2nite, I said.
Call if going out. Have fun. Love you, was her reply.
Kitty stormed outside with a duffel bag on her shoulder and a cell phone pressed to her ear. “Yes, I know Jess is a jerk, but…Okay. So don’t come. We’ll go.” Kitty frowned at me and sighed, shaking her head, obviously listening to a tirade. “So come then. You’re invited. Anna. Anna! Am I picking you up or not?” The closer Kitty got, the more I could hear the shouting. To her credit, she didn’t look too browbeaten. Just like I was used to Jess’s particular quirks, Kitty was used to Anna’s. Being Anna’s best friend meant stomaching a lot of vitriol.
“Okay, fine. I’ll see you in twenty.” Kitty hung up and motioned me to the car. I slid in beside her and resumed my laid-back position to keep my upper body away from the window glass. I wedged the salt shaker in one of the cup holders just in case. “Anna’s a little mad,” Kitty said.
“Oh, good. Ought to make tonight more interesting,” I said.
Anna was waiting for us on her front step, her clothes wedged into a tote bag that rested between her sneakers. She slid in behind Kitty without a word. Kitty eased the car onto the road, and I kept quiet. We knew this drill. Anna burned hot when she was mad, but if you gave her a little space, she’d simmer down. Jess didn’t abide that much because she was either brave, stupid, or insensitive, but Kitty and I knew to respect Anna’s boundaries.
That didn’t mean I couldn’t be friendly, though, so I craned my neck to smile at her. Anna turned her head, nodded, and the sun flashed across her glasses. That’s when I saw the two black eyes peering out at me. There were no whites, only almond shapes of emptiness. I squealed and reached for Anna’s glasses. Anna saw me sailing at her face and flinched, but my hand was faster than her recoil. I grabbed the glasses and flung them onto the seat beside her, my free hand fumbling for the shaker of salt.
“In the glasses. In the glasses!” I shrieked. Kitty jerked on the wheel to pull the car over onto the side of the road, nearly running into a mailbox. I flew forward and bit my tongue hard enough that I tasted coppery blood. I still managed to fling a handful of salt at the glasses in hopes of exorcising the ghost.
“Miiiiiiiine.”
The word warbled from the rear window and over to Anna’s car door. The car windows started to rise despite no one touching the control buttons. I tried to push mine back down, but had to jerk my hands away at the last moment, afraid that Mary would pin me between the glass and the roof. There was a click as the locks snapped into place around us, ghostly hands forcing the mechanisms.
Mary’s voice traveled from window to window as if she danced her way around the vehicle. There was an empty, hollow quality to the sound, too, like it came not from the depths of the car, but from a much larger, more cavernous chamber.
“What the hell is that?” Anna demanded, but both she and Kitty knew. They had never heard Mary’s voice, but they knew. They screamed and reached for their car doors. I did the same, my hand sliding down to grip the plastic. For all that I’d had the pleasure of Mary’s voice, it didn’t prepare me for this. Familiarity didn’t make it easier. I wanted to get out. I needed to get out. I gripped the handle and pulled, but nothing happened. I did it again, and again the door wouldn’t unlock.
“No, NO!” Kitty shrieked as the three of us pushed on the doors like we could brute-force our way out to safety. The voice amplified before fracturing—instead of one Mary voice, there were six voices whirling around us, all staking their claim at once. I watched the glass of the car fog over, small rivulets of water coursing over the panes.
“Mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine...”
“Make it stop,” Anna squealed, the words jumbling together as she threw herself flat onto the backseat, her face hidden against the upholstery, her hands clasped over her ears. I wanted to join her, but I froze when I saw Mary’s gray fingertip press against the windshield like she was perched on the hood of Kitty’s SUV.
“Wh-what…Is she coming? Is she…” Kitty’s voice broke off in a whimper as Mary started writing in the condensation, the letters dribbling water. I expected to see the M of Mine again, but this time it was an S. Followed by an H. My hand flew to my mouth as Mary wrote out my name, the letters crooked and ungainly, the N backward.
The voices around us died at once, cut short as if someone pressed stop on a stereo. A moment later an ear-shredding scream pulsed from the glass, high-pitched and shrill. The car began to shake. We huddled down into the seats, screeching and pleading for Mary to stop. I wanted it to be over, for Mary to go back to wherever she came from, but she wasn’t finished yet.
Her ragged, ruined hand flattened on the windshield in front of my face. I could see the skin moving, the gash in her palm burping out a pair of tiny black beetles that scurried down the car. She swept her hand to the side. The flourish erased my name, the phantom letters now replaced by a smear of black tar raining inky tears down the glass.
It was the school bus that did it. We were locked in a shaking car, drowning in terror, when the yellow bus pulled up to the street corner. The doors opened, unleashing a small herd of elementary school kids on the neighborhood. Mary fled as soon as they appeared.
Kitty threw open her door the moment it unlocked and bumbled into the street. I saw her whacking at her pocket. There was a wheeze just before she yanked out her inhaler, stealing a drag and falling onto her butt on the pavement. Anna crawled from the backseat, her whole body flat on the road. I dove for the sidewalk, finding a safe spot next to the trunk of an oak tree. I stared at the car unblinking, afraid that in the millisecond it took to close my eyes, the nightmare would come back.
I felt sick. I think we all did. One of the little kids stopped to peer at us, looking from Kitty to Anna to me. She was petite and blond, with big green eyes and a pink unicorn backpack that matched her jacket.
“Are you guys dying?” she asked. “If you’re dying, I’ll get my mom.”
She couldn’t have been more than nine or ten, and for her sake I forced an unconvincing smile. “No. Not dying. Just had a…an accident,” I said, pointing at the car. “Just scared.”
“Oh. Okay. I’m glad you’re okay.”
I wasn’t sure how okay I was, but I wasn’t going to say as much. The girl ran off to join her friends while the three of us got our collective nerve back. Anna was the first to recover. She stood from the road and wiped her pants off before turning to eye me, her cheeks flushed and stained with tears.
“Where’s the salt?” she demanded.
I still had it in my hand, and I tossed it to her. Anna stepped over Kitty to fling salt over the inside of the car—in the back of the SUV, on the dashboard. She put it in the little grooves between the window glass and the rubber guard things. She put it on the seats. She rubbed it into the vents. She used every last granule on that car before stepping back and whacking her hands clean, the empty cardboard shaker abandoned on the passenger’s side floor.
“W-we can’t avoid driving, but we can avoid dying,” she said.
Anna was right. I didn’t want to get back into the car, but when I saw Anna help Kitty to her feet, I knew we had to keep going. We clustered together, Kitty’s hands reaching out to either side of her so she could give me and Anna half hugs at the same time. We moved toward the car like we were walking to the gallows. When Kitty turned the engine over, we held our breaths and waited for Mary to return with her whisper games.
Nothing.
Kitty wasn’t a speeder, but she got from Anna’s street to Jess’s house burning smears of rubber on the pavement. I held my breath for long sections of the drive, only noticing I was doing it when I’d sta
rt to feel faint. I’d breathe, then something would flash across the glass of the windows and the cycle would perpetuate. Anna refused to wear her glasses. They stayed abandoned on the seat beside her, granules of salt pooling in the curve of the lenses. She didn’t touch them, not even when we got to Jess’s house and she threw herself from the car.
We collected our bags and hurried up Jess’s front steps, not bothering to knock. Jess’s house had a kitchen, a bathroom, a big living room, and an office downstairs. All the bedrooms were upstairs. I walked through the foyer and past the stairs to look into the kitchen. Mrs. McAllister was there with Todd, handing him a paper towel full of a snack.
Seeing me, she grinned and motioned me close. “I made brownies. You should have one,” she said. “Especially after that crazy day at school. I got the call and my mind jumped to the worst-case scenario. I hope they find the little bastards with the fireworks and expel them, pardon my French.”
Fireworks. Right.
Mrs. McAllister cut a slab of brownie and lifted it at me as an invitation. I didn’t have an appetite after the car ride, but I liked the idea of being near Jess’s mom. It felt safe. I went so far as to plunk myself down at the kitchen table beside Todd. Mrs. McAllister slid me a tall glass of milk. I murmured my thanks as I nibbled, my fingers brushing the crumbs away from my lips. Todd blabbed at me, and I nodded like I understood, but I didn’t hear a single word he said. I was too busy watching Mrs. McAllister sweep back and forth across the kitchen. At that point, had she tried to go to the bathroom, I probably would have followed her.
I could hear Jess pounding down the steps. She didn’t come to the kitchen right away, probably pausing to talk with Kitty and Anna, who were still in the other room. A minute later, she shuffled into the kitchen. She looked as tired as I did, and I wondered if it was fear of Bloody Mary or guilt that had kept her awake.
Mary (Bloody Mary) Page 10
