For dinner, my mother makes one of my favorites, chicken with mole, which means she's trying to smooth things over. Then she wants to watch a chick flick, so we do that. As soon as it's over, I say I have a headache and go to my room.
"Feel better, mija," she calls after me. Her voice sounds comforting. I wonder how long she's going to be able to keep it up.
As soon as I've hopped into bed, I reach for The History of the Wirth Mansion and continue reading.
In the summer of 1869, Alice Haner and her three children moved in. Guy Haner visited on weekends. He preferred drinking and womanizing in San Francisco. When she started complaining the new house was haunted, Guy thought it was just another attempt to get his attention.
The back of my neck prickles as I turn the page. Alice Haner not only heard doors slamming and a woman screaming at night, she swore a ghost was prowling the corridor outside her bedroom. When she flung it open, no one was there, but she heard silk skirts rustling down the hall in the darkness. This happened every night for weeks until Alice threatened to leave if Guy didn't come home.
When Guy Haner arrived, the maids confirmed his wife's stories. He became so upset he spent the rest of the evening drinking. That night, the ghostly noises started up again and Guy went charging into the corridor in his nightshirt, brandishing a gun. His shouts brought a maid running, and in his drunken state Haner shot her. Luckily, the maid survived, but that was the end of the Haners.
The Wirth Mansion went up for sale again. Except this time, word had got around that the house was haunted and there were no buyers.
The place sat empty for the next five years until it was sold for next to nothing and turned into a boarding school for boys. While some of the boys said they'd seen or heard a ghost, it was mostly the teachers who claimed to have heard doors “slamming with great violence” and “such screams that were sufficiently alarming to rouse us from our beds.”
The last recorded report of a ghost at the Wirth Mansion dates to 1875.
The Wirth mansion changed hands several more times until it was donated to the town of Hillside, where it was eventually restored to its former glory and opened for tours, teas and events. When I finish reading the book, I have pages and pages of notes.
I call Madison. We talk about Mary for a while before I change the subject. “I just read The History of the Wirth Mansion. I thought you said it wasn't haunted. Because that's not what the book says.”
Madison sighs. “That is such a bogus book. The first edition didn't mention anything about ghosts. When it didn't sell any copies, the writer added all that ghost crap and suddenly, everybody wanted to read it. That's what I've been told anyway.”
I glance down at the book. It's open to the table of contents. Three chapters are devoted to the ghost stories. “I know you don't believe in that stuff. You're too practical for that,” I begin, picking my words carefully. “But you said they're going to start doing haunted tours at the mansion, right? Somebody you work with must think there's some truth to the stories.”
Madison gives a dismissive snort. “More like they think there's money in it. That kind of bullshit sells tickets. But what do I know? I'm just an architecture nerd. Whatever. Whatever sells tickets is fine with me.”
“Are you going to give those tours?” I ask, curious.
Madison laughs. “They didn't even bother asking me. I'm sticking with my usual schedule.” She hesitates. “What's going on? Why do you keep asking about ghosts at the mansion?”
I explain about the strange sightings of a woman at Mary and Monica's house. I tell her about Emily's fear her house was haunted and how all four girls had not only visited the mansion but also lived close to it. Then I tell her about what I just read.
I hear her gulp. “Okay, I get why you're interested,” she says. “But I've never heard anyone say they've experienced anything like that, and I’ve been working there since sophomore year.”
We hang up. I spend the next hour reading about different types of ghosts: the demonic ones connected to burial grounds called "elementals," the violent energies that focus on a specific person—most often a teenage girl. This is the poltergeist. Then there are the ghosts that appear on a specific date, usually because of something awful that happened, like the anniversary of their execution. The time slip ghosts are the least scary, but still strange. The experience is usually described as someone accidentally stepping into the past, seeing people and things that could only have happened long ago.
All these ghosts are swirling around in my head. All of them are creepy.
Except none of the ghosts described seem capable of setting a girl on fire. I try to sleep, but within minutes it’s clear I’ve chosen the wrong bedtime reading material.
Chapter 36
It's Monday and Destiny stays home from school.
The news of Mary's death knocked her sideways. Not even Madison could talk her out of bed, where Destiny stayed, claiming she had a migraine. Mrs. Lawrence took a day off from work to stay with her.
There’s a short assembly at school. Mr. Buskin is shaken. He introduces Police Chief Legaspi who is looking droopier than ever. He says more officers from around California have joined the investigation, but he does not explain what they are investigating. Still no suspects. Still no theories on why the girls ended up burned corpses.
Parents show up and they are angry. Angry and scared. They want answers, but Chief Legaspi doesn't have any.
Alfie stands up. “What about spontaneous human combustion? This is Samantha Reyes, my co-editor.” He pauses to point at me, then continues. “She asked about it at Monica Goodman's press conference. Is that something you're considering now?”
Murmurs ripple through the auditorium. Heads turn, eyes stare. The chief clears his throat. “No. We have some of the best scientists working with us and they assure us that it's not an actual phenomenon.”
A father stands up, hands clenched into fists. “Then what the hell is going on?” he shouts.
“How are we supposed to keep our daughters safe?” yells a mother.
The parents in the auditorium are even harder on the chief than the reporters at the press conference were. Chief Legaspi does his best to calm things down, but he's struggling.
When the long school day is finally over, Gabe is waiting in the parking lot. He walks toward me, holding out his arms. I rush into them. Like I belong there. He kisses my forehead, then my mouth. I'm kissing him back, my hands clasped around his warm neck. “I've been thinking about you,” he says into my ear.
“Me too,” I say, suddenly feeling shy. My words didn’t come out right. We both laugh.
Chloe and Alfie walk up. We hear them before we see them, their shoes crunching on the fallen leaves. Chloe glances at Alfie. Probably to gauge his reaction, see if he's showing any signs of jealousy. No matter how many times I tell her there has never been anything between us, she's still uneasy about that accidental kiss at the roller rink.
“You're Gabe?” Alfie says.
Gabe pulls my arm around his waist. “You're Alfie?”
Alfie nods. “Sorry about your sister. I don't know what to say.”
Chloe is looking at me, her eyes questioning. I haven't told her about Gabe, and I have some explaining to do.
Alfie steps forward and shakes Gabe's hand. It's weirdly formal, but it's the right thing to do because Gabe gives him one of those guy pats on the arm. “Thanks, man.”
Alfie introduces Chloe, who manages to look her most beautiful when she is sad. Her long black hair frames her oval face. “We're going to see Raj. But somebody should be with Destiny too. Can you go?” She says this hesitantly. Probably because she doesn't want to wreck my plans with Gabe.
“Of course.” With everything going on, I still hadn't mentioned Destiny's interest in witchcraft to Chloe or Madison. I wonder if either of them had noticed the crystals and all the other stuff on her dresser. But it's not something I want to ask in front of Alfie.
A th
ought pops into my head. When Alfie and Chloe leave, I turn to Gabe. “Did you clean out Nicole's room yet?”
He shakes his head. “No. To tell you the truth, I've been putting it off.”
“Want some help?”
“Like, now?” Gabe manages to look both hopeful and slightly disappointed. Cleaning out your dead sister's room isn't anyone's idea of a romantic afternoon.
“Sure. We can at least get started on it. And then I'll go see Destiny.”
Gabe smiles and tugs my hair. “Only if you promise that we can do something just for us soon. Something normal. Like go to the beach.”
With that I get in my car and follow Gabe to his house. We grab some boxes from the garage and head to Nicole's room. The door opens with a loud creak. Inside it’s a disaster. Things are thrown around. It's like a tornado hit the room.
Gabe looks around helplessly. “The crime scene people were here. My mom says they took a bunch of stuff, but I don't know what exactly.”
“It must be weird. To think of your house as a crime scene.”
Gabe shrugs. “Yeah, but what kind of evidence were they looking for? And now Mary McKissick.”
“And now Mary McKissick,” I echo.
We carve out a path, pushing aside blankets, pillows and clothes. In the air I can detect a faint odor and my pulse begins to race.
Gabe stops and wrinkles his nose. “What's that smell?”
“I'll show you. Unless I'm wrong.” I move over to the dresser. It looks like the crime scene people used it as a dumping place as they went through the drawers. It's piled high with underwear, tops, leggings, makeup, flashy jewelry.
I begin throwing stuff into a box. Gabe is watching me, dark eyes curious. Under the mound of clothes, it's all there. Except Nicole's collection is bigger than Destiny's: trays of incense, scented candles, a gold bowl filled with Bay leaves and sprigs of rosemary, little glass vials of essential oils. There's also an assortment of crystals, herb packets and jars. One is labeled “charcoal,” another “safflower oil.”
Gabe turns to me, mystified. “What's all this?”
“It's an altar,” I say quietly. “A witch's altar.”
Gabe takes a step back from the dresser. “A witch's altar? Wait. Are you saying Nicole was into witchcraft?”
I nod. “Almost positive. Destiny has an altar, too. She said she got interested over the summer. Alfie and I just figured out all four girls lived close to the Wirth Mansion, so it got me wondering about what else they may have in common.”
“Like witchcraft...” Gabe's voice trails off.
“Yeah. On the way over here, I checked with Monica's sister. She says she never saw anything like an altar. Alfie and I went to Emily Miller's house and saw her bedroom. She didn't have one either.”
I check my phone to see if Alfie's responded yet. Sure enough, I'd missed his text: Raj still in shock, but he's sure Mary did not have an altar. I relay the message to Gabe, who continues to look stunned.
He stares at the dresser and takes several deep breaths. “I can't believe this. Why would she do something like that? That's crazy, isn't it? Becoming a witch?”
“Not really. It's going mainstream, apparently. Destiny says she likes it because it helps her feel more in control of her life.”
Gabe's collapses into a chair. “Did they know each other? Destiny and Nicole?”
“Not sure, but I plan on asking.”
I pick up a small bowl covered with crumbly gray gunk at the bottom, study it, then set it back down. It could be the remains of a facial. Or a potion. Whatever it is, it wasn't important enough to interest the crime scene experts. They left it behind along with the other altar stuff. Which means one of two things: the detectives hadn't figured out Nicole was practicing witchcraft or knew it and didn't care because they didn't think it had any connection to the case.
Gabe leans forward in his chair. “What's the deal with the Wirth Mansion?”
I hesitate. I'm not quite ready to tell him I'm looking into the possibility of a ghost at the mansion. “All of the girls visited the mansion before they died. And all four of them lived close to it.”
Gabe doesn't like the idea of me going alone to Destiny's house. The talk of witchcraft has made him uncomfortable, unsettled. But I need to ask Destiny more questions. And if any of the answers involve Nicole, it will be easier if Gabe isn't around.
At the car, Gabe wraps me in a bear hug. When he finally drops his arms, I make him promise to wait for me to finish cleaning out Nicole's room.
There's no telling what else we might find in there.
Chapter 37
Destiny's mother answers the door. She's not her usual perky self.
“I'm so glad you're here,” she says in a hushed tone. “I'm so worried about her. She hasn't got out of bed all day and she won't let me take her to the doctor.”
Destiny's sister Faith is sprawled out on the couch doing homework. “She's just freaked out, mom,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Being blonde and seventeen is enough to get you killed around here.”
Mrs. Lawrence gasps. “Faith!”
“What? It's true!”
My chest suddenly feels tight. Destiny's life could be in danger, but I have no idea how to save her. I can still hear them arguing behind me when I knock on Destiny's door. Without bothering to wait for an answer, I open it. Destiny is propped up in bed wearing nothing but her underwear. Her eyes are red from crying and her long hair is dirty, uncombed. If Destiny is vain about one thing, it's her hair. It's a bad sign if she's not taken the time to wash it.
There's a red metal canister lying next to her.
“What's that?” I ask, pointing at it.
Destiny leans back against the pillows, sucks her cheeks in before answering. “It's a fire extinguisher. In case I spark again. If I start on fire, I want to be prepared. You know, put myself out.”
My eyes travel to her bare stomach. It's covered with what looks like a charcoal face mask that's been left on too long. “What's that on your stomach?”
Destiny looks down at the coating of dry, gray crumbly stuff. “Oh. That's my potion. I'm supposed to leave it on until tomorrow. I've set the alarm for five, because I need to wash it off before the sun rises. It's used to break a curse. I have no idea if it works but you know, just in case.” She acts so casual about the whole thing, like she's talking about a homework assignment.
Alarm bells are ringing. I sit down and stare at her. She avoids my gaze and plays with the nozzle on the fire extinguisher. “What else am I supposed to do?” she says, her voice rising. “Sit here and let what happened to Mary happen to me?”
“Destiny,” I say, grabbing her shoulders, forcing her to look me in the eye. “There's something you're not telling me. Why do you think it will happen to you? Why did you and Mary think there was some sort of pattern? Faith said you're freaked out. Why? What the hell is going on?”
She laughs, an ugly, hard sound. “You're kidding me, right? How many blonde seventeen-year-old girls do you think there are in Hillside?”
“Not sure, but there's more to it than that, isn't there?” When Destiny begins blinking rapidly, I know I am on the right track. “Did you know Nicole? Because I just found an altar at her house. She was into practicing magic, too, wasn't she? Did you know her? Is that what you're not telling me?”
Destiny lifts her face toward the ceiling and takes a long, steadying breath. I watch as a tear slides down her face. “Shit, Samantha. You don't give up, do you? Yes. Yes, I knew her, okay! But it's not like we were friends or hung out. I met her online. On a Wiccan forum. For teens. It took me a while to figure out who she was because we don't use our real names and pictures, just avatars.”
“What happened after you figured it out?”
She sniffs, then gives a quiet bitter laugh. “She was a total bitch, that's what. Queen of the forum. Acting like she'd been doing it forever, bragging she'd already learned all the rituals and spells and potions. I mean, most of u
s were still on the basic stuff and there she was, talking about crazy shit like conjuring spirits. She even tried to get me to do it with her.”
I look at her sharply. “And did you?”
“No! Of course not. She was a really negative person. Magic is about healing and love. My books warn about people like her. That they'll try to use magic to hurt people or go down a dark path. Like Nicole. I mostly ignored her.”
I glance over at Destiny's altar. While her room is a mess, it looks like she's spent some time arranging the candles and crystals on top of her dresser. “Do you know if she actually did it? Conjure a spirit?”
Destiny falls back against the pillows and sighs. “She got so many mean comments for going on and on about it that she got pissed off and disappeared from the forum. But she private messaged me and said she was going to do it. She wanted me to help her, said she couldn't do it alone.”
I rub the back of my neck. “You didn't? Did you?”
“I said I didn't! Don't you believe me?”
“I'm sorry, okay. I believe you.” Destiny relaxes, so I push on. “Do you know why she wanted to summon a spirit? Where?”
Destiny squirms. “Sort of,” she finally says with a pained expression. “I honestly think she just wanted to impress everyone on the forum. She was that kind of person. And come on, even you can guess where she wanted to do it. Just think about it for a second.”
“The Wirth Mansion,” I reply without hesitation.
Destiny nods. “Where else? She said she heard it was haunted, so that it would be a perfect place to do it. As if. Why do you think I hate that place so much? Because not long after Nicole said she wanted to summon a spirit, Emily Miller died. And then Nicole and Monica. And now Mary. Now you know why I've been so freaked out.”
“Do you know if she went there? To the mansion?”
“She said she did.”
I get up, pace the room. My mind is racing, trying to process everything Destiny has revealed.
If Nicole went through with her crazy plan and tried to summon a spirit at the Wirth Mansion, she might have done it. She might have awakened an angry spirit, or spirits, that haunted the hallways of the mansion back in the 1800s and drove away two families.
The Box in The Cuts: A Supernatural Mystery Page 14