“Shh, there, it’s okay.” He leaned into me, wrapping himself around me, slipping down into the bed and pulling me close so I could feel him - solid, real.
“You’re…” But the words died on my lips, because whatever he was, it wasn’t alive. I remembered his body on the cold pre-dawn ground, blood congealing, eyes absent of their light.
“I’m here. I’m here right now.”
And he was.
I sat up, wiping at the wetness on my cheeks. I touched his face, kissed his lips and tasted the salt of my own tears in his mouth. I thrust my hands into his hair and then into his chest as I cried against him.
I had a million questions, but suddenly none of them mattered. One thing alone mattered - this second that spun into eternity. If only I could hold it, hold him. So, I did. I held him, wrapped my arms around his back and kissed his eyes and nose and mouth and neck. He kissed me back, and we rolled in the bed playfully as we’d done so many times.
He pinned me beneath him, holding my arms and sweeping his hair across my face, tickling my neck. I laughed and bucked, and when he fell to the side, I grabbed him and yanked him back.
“Make love to me,” I whispered.
“There’s nothing I want more in the world,” he said leaning close. I smelled his breath and faltered. A dank smell poured out of him, earth and moss and decay, but I fought it away and kissed him again, pulling his shirt over his head, fumbling my pants away.
I pulled my shirt up. It stuck on my head and I laughed, fighting it off, noticing his weight had lifted, his warmth had slipped away, and in an instant the room grew bitter cold. I yanked off my shirt and thrust it to the side.
The bed before me lay empty, the sheets rumpled, my bare feet and legs stark against the white fabric.
“Sammy?”
A loneliness heavier than a thousand bags of sand poured over me. I sat and stared and wondered if he’d ever been there at all.
Sarah
* * *
“THIS PLACE IS TERRIBLE,” Will whispered, swinging his flashlight through the stuffy, attic room at Kerry Manor.
“I know. Let’s get in and get out. The last time I was in here, Corrie shut the door. I’m not trying to repeat that experience.”
Will grimaced.
“After what happened in this house yesterday, I’d rather be anywhere else on earth.”
Sarah touched her neck, still raw from Corrie’s fingernails, and winced.
“What do you think we should take?” she asked. “Delila said they used one of Ethel’s dresses to trap the spirit.”
She picked up the ugly doll, created from the cat of a corpse, and held it between her thumb and forefinger.
“Not that.” Will shuddered.
He grabbed a tarnished hairbrush. “How about this?”
“Yeah, that’s less freaky,” Sarah agreed.
Will lifted the old mattress and gave a start.
“What?” Sarah asked stepping beside him.
“It’s the knife.” He stared at an object resting on the plank of wood beneath the bed.
“What knife?” Sarah asked. She moved closer and looked at a long, antique knife.
“The murder weapon,” Will muttered.
“How do you know?” Sarah asked. “I don’t see blood on it.”
“The bone handle with the jewel head,” he said gesturing to the long white handle with a red jewel capping the end.
Sarah stared at it for a long time noticing the silence, how the longer it stretched the more tense it became.
Will dropped the mattress with a thud and stepped away.
“But how could you know what the handle looked like?”
She turned and sought his eyes but he looked away from her, his jaw tense and his hands suddenly fidgety. He shoved them into his pockets.
When he finally looked at her, she knew.
“You were there that night. You saw it happen. Didn’t you?”
He started to shake his head but perhaps saw something in Sarah’s eyes.
“Don’t fucking lie to me Will, I swear to God-”
“Okay,” he blurted. “I saw… I didn’t know I saw it happen. I went into the house during the party. I was searching the rooms upstairs.”
“For what?”
“For her, for Ethel. I wanted to find her.”
“She’s dead, Will. How can you find a ghost?”
He shrugged.
“I looked out the window and saw two people kissing.”
“Sammy and Corrie.”
“The guy was in a costume with a weird baby hanging from the stomach, which I know now was Sammy. The woman was younger, in a devil’s costume.”
“Wait, what? You saw Sammy kissing someone other than Corrie?”
“Yeah. I mean I didn’t know what I was seeing. They stopped and Sammy looked like he was shaking his head, telling her no. I’m assuming she wanted more than a kiss but I’m not exactly an expert at these things. Maybe an hour later I heard humming in the hall outside the room. I panicked and hid behind the curtains. I looked out and saw the same guy sitting beneath the tree. A few minutes later, a figure walked across the yard. I thought it was the girl, Ethel. She wore a long antique-looking dress. And then…”
He stopped, and Sarah fought the urge to shove her hands over her ears and blot out the rest.
“Corrie,” Sarah whispered.
“I saw her walk towards him. They were talking. Then she lifted her arm in the air and I saw the knife, the white handle with the red base. She stabbed him, and I panicked. I ran out of the house and into the woods. I walked for hours. I slept in an old barn in Omena, and the next morning I hitched a ride back into town.”
“You saw Corrie kill my brother, and you said nothing?”
“It wasn’t Corrie,” he murmured, tentatively reaching for Sarah’s hand. “It wasn’t. And I knew it. It was this house, the evil here. If I told the police, your-sister-in-law would face life in prison. I knew what I saw, and it wasn’t real. Ethel killed your brother.”
Sarah took a step back and then another, clunking down the stairs to collapse on a chair in the master bedroom.
Hadn’t she already known Corrie killed Sammy - Corrie’s body anyhow? Why did Will’s story cut so deep?
Will followed her into the room.
“Sarah, you have to make a decision. You either believe Corrie is possessed or you don’t. I didn’t want to tell you because you were skeptical. I understand that, but you can’t be now. After everything we’ve learned, everything you’ve seen. Don’t you see how close we are to ending this once and for all?”
“You should have fucking told me,” she muttered.
Will hung his head. He looked troubled - guilt and defensiveness flickering across his face.
After a long silence, he nodded.
“You’re right. I should have.”
SARAH FOUND a seat at the back of the room. Twenty or so people occupied the other folding chairs facing the small stage where a man stood speaking, hands braced on the podium as if letting them all in on a fantastic secret.
“How can something so empty also feel owned… inhabited?” he said. “As if there are invisible beings walking among us, sitting at the cracked table, short one leg, sipping tea from the remaining half-tea cup that rests on a spider-webbed saucer. Perhaps they are trailing up and down the stairs, brushing so close. If only our senses were a shade keener, we would feel them, spin around and shout ‘who’s there,’ only to find ourselves staring into an emptiness that is not quite empty.”
The man gazed out at the small crowd of people, the dimmed overhead lights reflected in the round lenses of his glasses.
“If one opens the mind the tiniest crack, such questions may become a lifelong pursuit, a passionate investigation into the unseen world. Modern science has proved already that nothing is as it seems. I lift my finger to the light and marvel at what I see - a solid, fleshy appendage - but had I the tools to slip only the tip of a fingernail
beneath a microscope, I could observe a billion cells in ecstatic dance, driven together by an energy we cannot perceive… or can we?”
He gestured toward a corner of the room.
“The rocking chair shifts of its own volition, offering a groan of protest before settling into its unnerving squeak-squeak-squeak. Somewhere in the house, laughter rings out as if a child has glimpsed a wondrous thing - their first pony, or a bubble lifting from their bath and landing on the tip of their nose. It is a sound so endearing for a moment you forget this house is empty, no rosy-cheeked toddler plays in these rooms. And with that thought, the warmth in your chest turns cold and drips like ice down your spine, pools low and deep, in your feet perhaps, because you cannot seem to move them to save your life.”
Sarah held her breath, the memory of such experiences so close, she shivered.
“I have experienced true hauntings and human fabrications. Sometimes it is a vain bid for money or attention, but many times it is deeper than that. A person desperate to have their own glimpse of the unseen world validated by another. A near-impossible task, I tell you, because the energy world is ever-shifting. Rarely do you find a place where the spirits are stagnant. I might see an ethereal woman bent low in a garden, gazing into a freshly blooming daffodil, and then I might never see her again. For the rest of my life I could sit on the pavers stone, knees pulled to my chest, back aching from the effort. I could replace my vigil with another and another to ensure that eyes never left that daffodil. Time would send the flower back to her seed, but still I could sit on hardened ground, snowflakes wetting my eyelashes, and watch. Yet still I might never see her again. In all likelihood, I would not.”
Somewhere near the back of the room, a small alarm tinged. The man stood up tall, squinted toward a wall clock and grinned.
“Per usual, I have gotten carried away. If you’re interested to know more, you can find me online at www.mazurssecrets.com. You can also purchase my books in the store upstairs. Thank you all for attending tonight’s talk. It is with gratitude, I bid you farewell.”
The man offered a little bow, and the spattering of people occupying the folding chairs clapped. Sarah watched as the meager group cleared. The man stood on the little raised stage, shuffling his papers together before returning them to a brown leather case.
“Mr. Mazur?” Sarah stepped up to the stage.
The retired professor, now paranormal investigator, peered down at her.
“Good evening. I’m sorry I didn’t have more time for a Q and A session. I’m on a plane in an hour and forty-five minutes.”
Sarah reached out and grabbed his pant leg, as if that might prevent him leaving the room.
When he looked at her hand in alarm, she quickly pulled it away.
“Can I walk with you? Please. I drove five hours to be here.”
“Interested in the paranormal, are you? Or are you a quantum physics girl? Neither here nor there.” He waved a hand and winked. “Literally.”
Sarah hurried to keep up. The man was tall, well over six feet, and his strides were long and purposeful. He swung his briefcase in rhythm with his step, and she quickly shifted to his other side before it bashed her in the face.
“I have a friend who’s, well she’s - possessed. I need your help to get rid of the spirit.”
He stopped abruptly, sliding his glasses down his nose as if he expected a sardonic smile to crack her lips.
“I’m deadly serious.”
She rode next to him in the cab, detailing Corrie’s possession, running through the history of Kerry Manor, and concluding with the fire that wasn’t there.
His eyes lit as he asked questions about the temperature of the house at various times, the sources of light, the smells.
She rushed with him into his hotel room, his suitcase open on the bed with shirts and pants and socks hanging on the backs of chairs.
“Here, grab those,” he gestured at a pair of pajama pants covered in spaceships. She stuffed them into his suitcase and held it down as he forced the clasp into place.
“Grab that, will you?” he asked, gesturing at an industrial-sized black plastic toolbox with a red handle. She picked it up and nearly dropped it.
“Whoa, whoa, highly valuable, not to mention delicate equipment in there. Here, you take this.” He handed her his suitcase and took the plastic box. As they hurried back down to the cab, he peppered her with questions.
“How old is Corrie? What’s her body type? Is there much water near Kerry Manor?”
“Pop the trunk, will you?” Sarah called to the cab driver, carrying his suitcase to the back.
Mazur put a hand on her arm.
“No need, cabbie,” Mazur called. “I’ll be catching a ride with this young lady.”
CHAPTER 40
Now
Sarah
“Y ou will?” Sarah asked Mazur, surprised. She’d been so distracted by the questions, she’d almost forgotten her original purpose.
“Yes. I am a lecturer, but first I am a scientist, an investigator, and you have laid a conundrum at my feet. I must see it through to its end.”
The cab pulled away, and Sarah reached out a hand.
“Wait…” But he was gone.
“My car is still at the bookstore,” she mumbled.
“Ha,” Mazur laughed. “Perfect night for a walk. Brisk, yes, but my father always said to give the cold his due, or he will chase the warmth away.”
As Sarah made the drive from Chicago back to Traverse City, she filled Mazur in on the complete history of Kerry Manor, as well as the mysterious chamber in the forest behind the Northern Michigan Asylum.
“It appears you live in a hotbed of paranormal activity,” Mazur said, stroking his gray goatee until it formed a point. “Lots of water around there, you said?”
“Yes. Lake Michigan, and then a lot of smaller lakes as well.”
“Very interesting.”
“Are they aware? The person who’s possessed?” Sarah asked.
Mazur looked at her sidelong and shook his head.
“I think not, not within the possession, though I have seen cases with a sort of co-mingling. I’ve met people possessed who had memories of what occurred during possession but no autonomy. They often described it as watching a movie or being in a dream.”
Sarah nodded, a tiny bit of space forming in her clenched stomach.
Corrie didn’t know she had killed Sammy.
THEY BUMPED over the pockmarked drive that cut between the asylum cottages and led to the trailhead. In the moonlight, the buildings appeared spectral, their shattered windows watchful as the car crept forward. The chatter that had been happening since they left Sarah’s house abruptly ceased, and they drove through the grounds in eerie silence.
At last, Mazur broke the quiet. “They are magnificent,” he murmured. “I can feel them watching us.”
“Let’s not go there,” Will whispered. “My brain manages well enough without additional creepy commentary.”
“It’s all energy, young Will. Me, you, that speck of water,” he pointed at the windshield. “Your fear too - it’s all energy.”
They hustled from the car, and Sarah let out a long, shaky breath.
“If someone sees us, we’re going to get arrested,” Sarah whispered, lifting Corrie’s lifeless body from the backseat. An hour before, Sarah had given her a sedative in a cup of tea. She had intended to tell Corrie about the exorcism, but Mazur insisted it remain a secret. If Corrie, or more importantly Ethel, understood what they had planned, she would do anything to stop it.
Will took Corrie’s legs. Mazur lifted his plastic toolbox, and they started down the wooded path.
“Here, this way,” Sarah whispered. They turned and walked across a plank over a stony brook, up a hill awash in moonlight. At the top of the hill, they looked down on the strange basin of trees. Sarah saw the scrawled neon words of kids who’d visited the tree. In the darkness they looked like ancient writings, symbols and letters me
ant to invoke the spirits and perhaps to keep them away.
“What if he doesn’t show?” Sarah asked, feeling Corrie slipping down. She huffed and readjusted her. Her sister-in-law was not a large woman, but in her unconscious state she seemed to weigh several hundred pounds.
“Have faith,” Will said, though Sarah saw the trepidation reflected in his eyes.
After several more minutes, they heard something crashing through the brush. Sarah nearly dropped Corrie as she and Will backed toward a grove of trees, out of sight
Mazur stood firm, toolbox in hand, staring curiously into the darkness.
“Sarah?” The loud whisper found them.
“Ugh, thank God, it’s him.” She laid Corrie on the grass and hurried forward.
“Sorry to sound like an elephant pounding through the forest,” Glen told her. “I got turned around back and there and had a bit of a panic. I’m not generally prone to fear, but I haven’t been on these grounds in a long time.”
Glen held up the key. He walked forward to a wall of brush that Sarah had not noticed moments before. She saw the puzzlement in Mazur’s face as well.
The chamber door swung in. As Sarah stepped forward, Glen put a hand on her arm.
“I’ve got Corrie,” Will said, hoisting her into his arms.
“Are you sure?”
Will nodded and huffed into the dark tunnel, Mazur following and murmuring about the energetic aliveness of the place.
“I’ll stay out here until it’s over,” Glen told her. “Do you have everything you need?”
“Yeah, we’re good. And thanks for coming, Glen. Hopefully after tonight, we won’t have any reason to meet again.”
Glen reached out a hand, and she shook it, walking backwards into the tunnel and offering him a final wave.
Mazur’s eyes sparkled in the lamplight as he shuffled around the chamber. He touched the walls, took bits of pebbles off the floor and tucked them into a small plastic bag, which he added to his case.
Sarah pulled a clean blanket from her bag and laid it over the bed before she and Will hoisted Corrie on top.
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