by Skylar Finn
We don’t think she has yet, said my mother. When her voice woke me, it was the first time I heard her—though it seemed I had throughout my life, especially every year on my birthday. “Peter, are you certain you wouldn’t want some tea?” she said out loud, breaking what had become a very uncomfortable silence for Peter.
If she does, it will be on the night of the lunar eclipse in three days’ time, said my grandmother. It’s a blood moon, and a powerful time for magic. Especially magic required for what Margo’s trying to do.
What is she trying to do? I asked.
“I’m really quite all right,” said Peter. “If I could just ask—”
“No,” said my grandmother flatly. Gwyneth planned to return corporeally by possessing an unsuspecting mortal, she continued silently to me. She’s most likely chosen Margo, and she’ll be looking for other vessels for the remaining members of her coven who weren’t killed in the fire.
I thought of my visions of Margo in the woods with Bridget and Kimmy, two of Les’s other girlfriends who were currently working as Margo’s personal assistant and back-up vocalist, respectively. I imagined them being possessed by evil old witches from a previous time and felt suffused with dread. If Margo succeeded, it would cost not only Tamsin’s life but others besides, not to mention the arrival of multiple dark witches back into society.
“We have to stop her,” I accidentally said out loud.
“Stop who?” demanded Peter.
“Tamsin,” said Minerva, smiling thinly. Both my mother’s heads and mine swiveled toward her, confused. Aurora, already aware of what she was doing, remained still. “She does this all the time. It’s just that this is the only time it felt real.”
“Why is this different from the other times?” asked Peter, with a cautious glance at Aurora. She said nothing, still as a stone.
“She’s always wanted to get away from Mount Hazel,” said Minerva, sounding distant. “And I was always overprotective. It seems this time she’s made good on her threat.” She bit back a sob and rose from the table. “No point in calling the police, Peter. But thank you for the thought. She’s eighteen and free to go where she wants.”
Peter was obviously not convinced. The conversation had turned on a dime from Tamsin being missing to Tamsin running away.
“Are you sure that’s what happened?” he asked.
“I know my daughter,” said Minerva simply. Her back was to Peter as she rinsed her mug in the sink.
“We have a few things to do here and then we’ll be at the apothecary by sunrise,” said my mother, looking at me meaningfully. “You should try to get a little bit of sleep.” Don’t you dare go back to that house, she added silently.
I won’t, I promised.
“I need to get my things from your place,” I said to Peter as I got up. He rose from the table after me.
“Please let me know if you change your mind,” he said to Minerva. “Thank you for the tea, Isadora.” He purposely ignored my grandmother as he strolled from the room.
“I like him,” she said mildly. “Boy’s got some fire.”
“What are we going to do?” I asked with despair.
“Exactly what I told you,” said my mother. “You’re going to go back to Peter’s and rest. You’ll meet us at the shop in the morning. We have a plan.”
She pulled a coat from the peg mounted to the wall of the kitchen and bundled it around me. She tied Peter’s scarf more firmly around my neck and pulled his hat low over my ears. I felt like I was ten.
“Be safe,” she said, kissing me on the forehead.
I went out to Peter’s truck in a daze and got in, closing the door. He started the truck but didn’t move. He turned to me.
“All right, Samantha,” he said. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
35
The Room Behind the Curtain
I could see Peter was going to be difficult, if not impossible, to deal with if I didn’t provide him with some kind of explanation. I thought of Minerva’s maneuverings in the kitchen. Maybe I could tell him the truth, or least a truth, without lying to him or giving anything away that I shouldn’t. Anything he wouldn’t believe.
“My family are pagan occultists,” I said. “They’re into, you know, nature and runes and stuff. Astrology, tarot. Things you probably don’t believe in. They’re very intuitive. I woke up from a nightmare about Tamsin being missing, and I thought it might be real. They do, too, but they don’t want to involve you. They’ve been keeping an eye on Margo since she got to town. They think she’s starting some sort of…cult, out of the belief that she can guarantee herself fame.”
“Like the Satanic Panic of the 1980s?” he said immediately.
“The what?” I said.
“Ritual slayings in small towns and the ensuing paranoia that teenaged cults committed them under the influence of heavy metal, LSD, and Satan-worship.”
“Um, yeah,” I said. “Kind of like that.”
“It makes sense,” he said, musing aloud. I glanced over at him. It did? “A bunch of wealthy, egomaniacal music-industry types hole up in a mansion in the middle of nowhere, do a few too many psychedelic drugs, find out about the history of the house, and convince themselves that they’ll be successful if they make some kind of offering.” I could see him shaping the story in his mind, the way he would pitch it to an editor.
“How did you know about the history of the house?” I asked.
“I’ve lived here my entire life,” he said. “I know everything there is to know about this town. Why did you assume I would be so cynical?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” I asked.
“There are more things on heaven and earth, Horatio,” he said, quoting Shakespeare, “than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
“You believe me?” I asked. I felt a little incredulous.
He looked at me like I was crazy. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asked. “I mean, you were obviously hiding something. Combined with the observations in Martha’s journal about your family being ‘witches of Main Street,’ or whatever, and the odd happenings at that house—it all adds up. I’d be more suspicious if you continued conspiring with your family to contrive obvious lies about what’s really happening.”
I couldn’t believe it was this easy. If I’d told my dad any of this, he would have had me committed. I reached for Peter’s hand and took it. He looked down, surprised. He squeezed my hand.
“I’m glad you decided to trust me,” he said.
Back at Peter’s apartment, he immediately put a pot of coffee on. “I hope you weren’t seriously considering sleeping,” he said.
“I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again,” I said.
“Does your family think that Tamsin’s disappearance is connected to Margo?” he asked. “Or do they truly believe she’s run away?”
“I can’t picture Margo just taking her,” I said, biting my lip.
I was being honest. That wasn’t Margo’s style. When Martha disappeared, it was because Gwyneth had convinced her to give up her life in exchange for a new body and immortality. She tricked her into giving up her voice, so Gwyneth could use it when she possessed Margo—presumably to ensure her power, influence, and fame. I just didn’t understand why, or how.
But I couldn’t picture Margo showing up at the house and taking Tamsin from her bed. She was already suspicious of Margo after she’d revealed her dark powers over the course of a disastrous dinner party which Tamsin had been present for. She wouldn’t have gone anywhere near Margo. Which still didn’t answer the question of where she’d gone.
“I can’t, either,” he said. “Tamsin’s fully grown and it’s not as if she could be lured away. She hates Margo’s music and therefore presumably hates her as a person. I’ve known Tamsin for a long time. She’s too clever to get caught up with a bad element. We know Martha was taken from the woods, but we have no idea how Colin disappeared. I think we need to figure out what happened to Colin in order to figure out where M
argo might have taken Tamsin.”
I thought of the secret room behind the fireplace in the manor and shuddered. She wasn’t keeping Tamsin there, was she? Was there some way I could contact her? I tried to reach out with my mind, but there was only darkness.
I considered what Peter was saying. According to Aurora, Margo was in the midst of performing three rituals, and would be using Tamsin in the third in three days’ time. Which meant she would surely keep her alive in that time. But where was she hiding her? Colin already lived there and had been easy enough to get into the secret room of doom. Plus, he was an ordinary mortal boy and probably had no idea what was happening. Tamsin had been prepared for Margo and was a powerful witch besides. There was no way she would have gone anywhere without a fight. Margo had only recently turned to the dark side, and her powers were coming from someone else. Surely that had to make a difference.
And what ritual was Margo on, anyway? Colin had almost certainly been the first, but Gwyneth was the one responsible for Martha’s death. I didn’t even know what actually happened to Colin. Was it Margo or Gwyneth who had killed him? Where was his body? What were the second and third rituals?
In order to figure out what happened to Tamsin, it seemed imperative to discover what had happened to Colin. Maybe she had kept him prisoner first, too. Colin was the second ghost I spoke to, and he had no recollection of the time between going to bed one night and becoming a ghost. He suspected it involved Margo and something at the house, but he couldn’t remember what. I assumed it was too traumatic. I’d had the same problem with Martha until I visited the site of her disappearance and re-lived her memories. Could I do the same with Colin? How could I do it without going back to the manor?
“What if we went to the city and found out where Colin lived?” Peter was saying. He was already packing a bag. “If I could get into Colin’s apartment, I could try to find out for sure exactly when he disappeared. If we can narrow down a time frame and prove he vanished from the manor, we might have enough for the police to get a warrant to search the place. Then they might find Tamsin.”
I thought it unlikely that either Peter or the entire Mount Hazel police force were any match for Margo at this point, but if we went to Colin’s, maybe I could find something that would trigger access to his memories, the way I’d gained access to Martha’s.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”
I asked Peter to stop at the apothecary before we left town so I could find out how the coven planned get Tamsin back.
“Would you mind waiting in the truck?” I asked. “I don’t think my grandmother would be especially thrilled to hear from you again so soon.”
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll be out here.”
I jumped down from the truck and ran into the shop, the bell over the door ringing. Aurora, Minerva, and my mother were nowhere to be seen. I glanced around, puzzled. My eyes landed on the black curtain that separated the front of the shop from the back. It wafted slightly, as if buffeted by an invisible current. The front door was closed and all the windows were shut.
I walked slowly towards the curtain. I could hear low, murmuring voices. I had the fleeting thought that there was part of me that didn’t want to know what was behind it.
I carefully pulled it to the side. Just a little, to see if I could peek behind it before going any further. But everything was dark. Puzzled, I moved forward. I felt as if I was suspended in space. I could feel my feet still firm on the ground, but there was nothing in front of me. I put my arms out, feeling with my hands, alarmed. Where was I? What was this?
A larger space opened up in front of me, and I saw my grandmother, aunt, and mother standing in a circle, surrounded by candles. The candles appeared to be suspended in mid-air. They were the only source of light in the otherwise pitch-black space.
They were all wearing white, their arms above their heads, their eyes closed. They chanted softly, but I couldn’t make out the words. As I watched, a small green light appeared in the center of the room.
“She’s alive,” said Minerva, opening her eyes. “Thank the goddesses.”
Aurora and my mother opened their eyes as well, regarding the small green light at the center of their circle. None of them seemed surprised by my appearance.
“That’s Tamsin?” I said, staring at the light with awe. “Can she see us? Or hear us?”
“No,” said Aurora. “It’s just something we do to see her astral self and what plane it’s on. It’s how your mother checked on you over the years.”
My mom smiled at me a little sadly.
“I checked on you every day,” she said.
“What is this place?” I asked.
“This is the center of our collective power,” said Aurora. “It’s where we practice our most powerful magic.”
“Is this how we’re getting Tamsin back?” I asked.
“We will not be doing anything,” said Aurora sternly. “You are going to keep out of harm’s way while we enact our plan. You’re not powerful enough—or maybe you’re too powerful. But you have no control. We can’t take the risk it would require having you participate.”
“But I want to help,” I said. “I need to help.”
“You’re already helping,” my mother said. “Go with Peter to the city. I know you’ll be safe there. Find out what happened to the boy and report back to us. We need to know what ritual Margo is on and how she performs them. You can help with that while we keep you out of harm’s way.”
“How did you—” I stopped mid-sentence. If my mother used this room to watch me all my life without my ever knowing, there seemed little sense in asking how she’d known I planned to go to the city with Peter to find out what happened to Colin.
“It will be much worse for all of us if we have to worry about you and Tamsin at the same time,” added Aurora.
Minerva smiled at me sorrowfully. “Thank you for everything, Sam,” she said. “I know we’ll get her back. She’s a fighter.”
I might have fought Aurora or even my mom, but I would never have disrespected the wishes of Minerva, who had the most to lose.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll find out what happened.”
“Contact us in the usual way,” said Aurora. “That boy is a little too nosy for my liking. I’d rather he didn’t ‘accidentally’ overhear you on the phone.” I assumed by the usual way, she meant telepathically.
My mother hugged me and Aurora gave a little nod. Minerva blew me a kiss. I stumbled back through the curtain, completely disoriented. The light of the shop seemed blinding. I headed for the door.
Sam. It was the voice of my grandmother. Take the bag beneath the counter with you when you go.
I stopped behind the counter and pulled a small black velvet drawstring bag out from under it. I studied it curiously. I wanted to open it and see what was inside.
Go! My grandmother’s voice was loud in my mind, and I shoved the bag into the inside pocket of my borrowed coat before I hurried out the door. The bell rang as I pulled it firmly shut behind me. I ran down the sidewalk to Peter’s waiting truck, exhaust billowing white clouds into the cold air. I got in and slammed the door.
“Are you ready?” he asked me.
“Let’s go,” I said.
36
What Happened to Colin
On the way to the city, I sent a brief email to Bridget indicating that I was heading back to network with some of my press connections for Margo’s upcoming album.
Great! When will you be back? Monster party at the manor in a few days, she texted me back.
I’ll just bet there is, I thought darkly.
I watched the streetlights flash by the windows of Peter’s truck and realized how relieved I felt to be away from Mount Hazel. I think part of me had considered running away from the situation all along. But now it was too late and I was invested.
I found Lisette on social media in a matter of minutes. She’d trained Colin to take over her job as Margo’s personal assistant befo
re she left the manor for unspecified reasons. She was an extremely popular YouTube personality with a channel devoted to documenting her avocado toast and how she straightened her hair on a weekly basis. I messaged her and asked if I could meet with her to ask some questions about Margo. Her response was immediate in the way of someone whose phone is perpetually glued to her hand. She sounded both unwary and receptive to having a conversation about her former employer. She messaged me her address, which I put into Peter’s GPS.
“This is the girl who had Colin’s job before Colin?” he asked.
“Yeah, maybe she can tell us why she left,” I said. “Colin said she was eager to leave, but she didn’t say why. And maybe she knows where Colin lived.”
Lisette’s apartment was impressive for a twenty-two-year-old. She lived on the top floor of a luxury high-rise, in a lavishly decorated suite with no roommate in sight. Initially I assumed her parents were bankrolling her lifestyle, but she was quick to correct me.
“Like it?” she said, watching me take in her opulent spread. “I get all this YouTubing. Like, most of this stuff gets sent to me for free.” She shrugged.
“You get this many advertisers from blow-drying your hair once a week?” I asked.
“I would say my subscribers are pretty evenly divided between young women who admire me and perverts who like watching me,” she said. “So, yeah, basically.”
“Lisette, how well did you know Colin?” asked Peter, sitting on the edge of a white leather ottoman.
“Not well,” she said sitting across from him on a matching sectional sofa. “We were only at Margo’s place together for like a week while I trained him to take over. Looking back on it, I’m like, why did I even do that? It’s not like I needed the money, but I wanted the rec from Margo so I could put it on my resume, cause it’s kind of a big deal, right? Eventually, I want to work for Ferrari Xmas. So I didn’t want to leave on bad terms.”