Paranormal After Dark

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Soon, Bri deems it present time.

  There are gift cards, some gag gifts, and a few thoughtful ones too. Brianna grabs her purse from beneath the couch and pulls out a small box.

  Inside rests a beautiful, ornate cross on a golden chain. “It’s beautiful. Thank you,” I say as I put it on.

  Once I opened the last present, the party guests start to filter out. Mom, Brianna, and Lydia gather the trash.

  “Let me help,” I insist.

  “No. Sit down and read the math book Vince got you,” Bri suggests with a smile.

  One of the gag gifts. I collapse onto the couch with a snort. “I must have gained twenty pounds.”

  “You’d never know it by looking at you,” my mom says. “I hate you and your metabolism.”

  “Yeah, once you hit fifty, I hear it majorly shuts down,” I tease. “But don’t worry. You don’t look a day over forty-nine.” My mom’s only forty-five and looks much younger than her age, when her job doesn’t leave her exhausted. She works a lot of late hours to help pay the bills.

  “You better watch it.” Mom wags a finger at me, mock stern-like. “You don’t get your present from me until your actual birthday.”

  I make a halo with my hands and hold it over my head while batting my eyes.

  Lydia throws a balloon at me. I toss one back, and a balloon war breaks out between us girls, with none of us the clear victor.

  When the house is clean, Brianna gives me a tight hug. “Gotta jet. Have to babysit Julie. Happy birthday!”

  “Thanks for everything!”

  “Take care and drive safely,” my mom calls. “Time to load up the presents.”

  Lydia and I help. Not all of them fit in Mom’s car so Lydia offers to fit the rest in hers, and we drive home. They start to unload the presents into the living room, refusing to let me help anymore.

  When Mom walks out the front door to bring more presents inside, an idea seizes me. “Can you drive around back?” I whisper to Lydia.

  She furrows her brow and nods.

  While she does that, I take the stairs two at a time and smuggle the Marian Wynter box from my closet into the kitchen and out the back door.

  “Marian Wynter?” Lydia asks. “Who’s that?”

  “My birth mother. I found it up in the attic. Can you take it to your place?”

  Her dark eyes widen. “Sure. Whatever you need.” She pops the trunk. “I swear I won’t open it, and you can come over any time to read it, but I can’t promise I won’t read over your shoulder.”

  I grin. “Of course. Thank you.”

  “Not a problem at all. See you tomorrow!”

  I walk back inside, relieved and happy. I’m dying to know what’s in the box, and now I have a way to look at it without worrying Mom’ll find out. I’d been too tired after our talk to risk going through it last night, and I doubt Mom’ll leave me alone in the house again anytime soon.

  Mom locks the front door. “I didn’t get to say goodbye to Lydia. I wanted to thank her again for hosting.” She settles on the couch. Exhaustion forms lines on her face. “Want to have a ladies’ night? We can order a pizza and rent a movie—your choice.”

  I pat my belly. “I’m not hungry so I’ll take a rain check. Gonna take my presents upstairs.”

  “Okay.”

  I grab some bags and hurry upstairs, not wanting to see the hurt in her eyes. My heart aches. The one person I want to spend time with is my birth mother, but that’s impossible. She’s dead.

  Chapter 5

  MONDAY’S MY BIRTHDAY. To my surprise, Bri rolls up before I can get on the bus.

  I slid inside her car. “Surprised your parents are letting you drive.”

  “Oh, I’m still punished. Can only drive to and from school. And to pick you up for your party yesterday.” She grins then screeches to a halt a little past the stop sign.

  “You know… you might wanna slow down a little. The next cop might not give you a warning.”

  She shrugs. “You only live once.”

  “Wouldn’t it be cool if we could live more than once?”

  Brianna glances over, eyebrows raised. “You believe in reincarnation?”

  “Of course not. But if you could come back, would you?” It would be interesting to hear her thoughts on the subject. Some of her beliefs are really out there. She does believe in God, but she also thinks the stars and planets affect our lives. She even said once that plants are more powerful than we give them credit. Bri had to be joking about that, though.

  She screeches to a halt at a red light. “I’d rather think about past lives. I’m sure I was a princess in the Middle Ages.”

  “And you died in childbirth.”

  Brianna grimaces. “I don’t know if I want kids.”

  “But you love Julie.”

  “Yeah, she’s kinda cute for a five-year-old. I’ll never understand why my parents waited so long to have another one.” She starts to go, wrongly thinking the light was going to change, and jerks the car to a stop. “Maybe I was an Egyptian princess instead.”

  “And you married your brother?”

  She sighs. The light finally changes, and she floors the gas. “What about you in your past lives?”

  “I don’t know. What about the future? Maybe I’ll come back as someone powerful, with the ability to change the world.”

  “Don’t go into politics then.”

  We giggle. Brianna’s father is the town mayor. He grumbles about his job all the time, but he really has done a lot for Claymore.

  “I’m not sure what I’ll be.” I tap my fingers against the dashboard.

  “Are we still talking about the future you or you in the future?”

  “Huh?” I pause my beat for a second.

  “Reincarnated Crystal or your future as in two years from now, five years from now, twenty years from now?”

  “My real future. I haven’t thought about the SATs yet. Haven’t even gone through the prep programs my mom bought. I have no idea where I want to go for college, no clue what I want to study…”

  “Most of us don’t know either yet.”

  “Yeah, but you do.” A twinge of jealousy fills me, and I cross my arms.

  Brianna shrugs. “Just because I know I want to own my own bakery doesn’t mean it’ll be easy. Besides, everyone in town will never go to another bakery. Mrs. Pullman’s has the monopoly. I’ll have to move away. And I can’t decide if I should get a business degree first or go to culinary school, so I don’t have all the answers either.”

  “Still, you have a firm goal. I have nothing.” I stare out the window. Trees and buildings pass by in a blur. Dear Lord, what should I do with the rest of my life?

  There’s no answer, no illuminating burst of knowledge.

  I hold my breath. Maybe God’s whispering to me, and I can’t hear Him.

  But then I remember my vision with the grill fire. Whatever I do, I want to help people.

  * * *

  AFTER SCHOOL, I borrow Lydia’s cell. “Hi, Mom. Lydia’s going to tutor me in geometry. I’ll come straight home afterward.”

  “You sure that’s how you want to spend your birthday?” She sounds a little lonely.

  “Aren’t you the one who’s always trying to get me to make straight A’s?”

  “True.” She can’t argue against a study session. She also doesn’t seem to notice that I didn’t ask for permission. “Be home before dark!”

  I hand Lydia the cute pink phone. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” She tosses it onto the backseat and backs out of the spot. Ten minutes later, she parks in front of her large two-story house. “Come on.” She runs to the front door.

  Laughing, I chase after her. “You’re almost as excited as I am!”

  We hurry up the stairs to her room. She locks us in. “Brothers,” she explains.

  The box is filled with papers. We spread them out, and true to her word, Lydia reads over my shoulder. Some of the papers are related to Marian’s
infertility. There are two more articles about the car crash and the obituary that features my dad’s death. He died of thyroid cancer. Everything seems to match up with what Patricia told me, and I release a long breath. I almost expected to learn she lied to me.

  “I’ll be right back.” Lydia jumps up. “Don’t read anything else without me.”

  I wait a long minute, but when she still hasn’t returned, I seize a small white, unmarked envelope. It’s thick, as if several pages are folded up and shoved inside.

  When the knob jingles behind me, I shove the envelope down my shirt. For some reason, I want to learn its contents by myself.

  Nothing else in the box proves insightful, much to my—our— disappointment.

  “Want to stay for dinner? I have to cook so it’s only going to be macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets,” Lydia warns.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  After a fun-filled dinner—Lydia has one older brother and one younger, both are clowns and have us laughing the entire time—she drives me home. “Whenever you want to sneak the box back up to your attic, let me know.”

  “Will do. Thanks, Lydia.” I grab my backpack. Before dinner, I slipped the envelope into it.

  Happier than I’ve been since before learning about Marian, I enter the house.

  Mom’s sitting on the couch. She glowers at me, her arms crossed. “Where is it?”

  “Where is what?” My heart sinks.

  “Where is the box?”

  I clear my throat and swallow hard. “What box?”

  “You must have been snooping around! How else did you find that photo?” Aunt Patricia slams a fist into her open palm. “I never should have kept it.”

  “Kept what?” I don’t want to start a fight, but I’m not about to let my aunt start keeping secrets from me, not when I’m so close to learning the truth.

  “Don’t toy with me, Crystal. You found the box I labeled Marian Wynter.”

  I tap my foot. “Considering that Marian is my mother, everything that was hers is now mine. Besides, what’s so important in that box? What don’t you want me to see?” The envelope. That must be what she’s worried over. Nothing else in the box contained anything my aunt would have wanted kept secret. I have to read it!

  She sighs. “I just don’t like the idea of you sneaking around and—”

  “And what? Keeping secrets from you? Guess you’re the only one who’s allowed to do that.”

  My aunt stands and walks toward me, but I brush past her and run upstairs to my room. I slam my door shut and lock it.

  She pounds on the door a few seconds later. “We aren’t done talking, young lady. Open this door right now.”

  “I have to work on a paper. We can talk tomorrow.”

  “Crystal!” The doorknob jiggles.

  I look around my room and gasp. My closet and most of my drawers—desk and bureau—are opened, their contents rifled through. “You searched my room?” I screech.

  “You took something of mine.”

  “That’s an invasion of privacy!”

  “Children don’t have the right to privacy. And if you keep back talking to me, I’m going to take the lock off your door.”

  I feel betrayed on so many levels. “You know what? This is the worst birthday ever. I wish I could spend it with my real mom!”

  The banging, her yelling, it stops instantly. I should feel guilty. I don’t.

  A few moments later, I hear her go downstairs, her footfall heavier than normal. Good. I snatch my backpack and remove and open the unsealed envelope. With trembling hands, I pull out the pages and unfold them.

  Marian,

  I know you don’t want to hear this, but I really think this may be your only solution. God hasn’t answered your prayers, so what makes you think he ever will? Daniel’s health is only getting worse. The treatment is wreaking havoc with his body. He won’t live much longer.

  You both desperately want a child, Daniel even more so. There’s no time for fertility treatments. Medicine can’t help you. Only magic can at this point.

  I know you don’t want to believe, but magic has its place in this world. I’m not a witch myself, but I do know three very powerful ones who might be willing to help you.

  What’s the harm in talking to them? Go see what the price is for a child. Right now, that’s your only options. God will understand. After all, didn’t he say he helps those who help themselves?

  Patricia

  I read and reread the pages. My being a miracle baby—that had to have been the result of God and nothing else. Not witches. Not magic.

  The books in the attic… Patricia believed in magic enough to try to convince her sister-in-law to seek out witches for help conceiving a child.

  Shaking my head, I close my eyes. Does she really believe in all that nonsense? Maybe I’ll convince her to come with me to Mass this Sunday.

  A weight lifts from my shoulders, and I try to get some homework done, only I can’t concentrate and my mind turns to the English report on witches. Mount Claymore supposedly has magical properties. Should I take a hike to the mountain after school? Will I have enough time to find the witches?

  If they’re even still there. I was conceived almost seventeen years ago.

  Patricia has never been so furious with me before. She’ll never allow me to go to Bri’s or Lydia’s house, even under the pretense of homework. Not now.

  School isn’t more important than finding out the truth.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, I ride the bus but instead of walking through the big school doors, I duck toward the parking lot and wait for the students to go to class. Then I head north.

  It isn’t easy to avoid people, and I stick to the back roads as much as possible. I can’t risk being caught by a truant officer.

  My watch says nine when I reach the base of the mountain. It looks like it always does—tall, normal, nothing out of the ordinary or even remotely magical.

  With a lot of grunts and grumbling, I scale the mountain. The higher up I climb, the darker the sky becomes. A thunderstorm is rolling in. Wonderful.

  A loose rock slides beneath my feet, and I start to fall. A scratchy bush hugs me, breaking my fall. So far, I haven’t seen one cave or anything else witchy-like.

  Maybe they live on the other side of the mountain.

  I sigh. This whole thing is crazy.

  As I climb back down, the sun peeks through the clouds. Maybe it won’t storm after all. On a hunch, I climb a few steps. Sure enough, the sky blackens again.

  My mouth grows dry. Never did believe in coincidences. What is going on?

  I descend until the world is bright again. Careful not to ascend, I walk around the mountain and stop when a cottage comes into view. Despite looking cozy, the place appears abandoned.

  I approach and knock on the door. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

  No answer.

  I knock again. “Hello? I’m looking for…” Can I really say witches? Do witches live in cottages?

  Still no answer.

  The white lace curtains of the nearest window are pulled aside. I walk over and peer inside. “My name is Crystal Wynter and…”

  The front door swings open.

  I head toward it. No one stands in the doorway.

  My skin begins to crawl. Talk about creepy.

  I hesitate at the threshold. “Can I come in?”

  No answer. Even though the storm never materialized and the sunlight is almost blinding, the interior of the house is black.

  I take a small step inside.

  The door slams shut behind me.

  Maybe coming here isn’t such a good idea after all.

  Chapter 6

  SUDDEN LIGHT FLOODS the room and blinds me. When I can see clearly, two women stand before me.

  The first has her arms crossed over a plain red gown that reminds me of the field trip my class took last year to the local Renaissance Faire. Her lips are pinched with small lines at the corners
, but other than that, she looks about twenty.

  The second’s sharp, gray eyes pierce into my soul. It’s unsettling, but there’s more warmth from her than the first one.

  I fidget uncomfortably. My back itches, but I don’t want to scratch it in front of them. “Hi. I didn’t mean to barge in, but the door was open and—”

  “Why have you come here?” the first woman demands.

  “Oh, Silver Tiger, be nice. We know why you’re here.”

  “You’ve been expecting me?” I wouldn’t have been able to hide my shock even if I tried. I’ve never had a poker face.

  “Yes.”

  “Why not tell her everything, Sapphire Belladonna?” Silver Tiger says sarcastically.

  “First, let’s learn what she already knows.” Sapphire Belladonna waves her arm, and a small round table and three chairs appear out of nowhere. “Please, sit, Crystal Wynter.”

  “How… Where…” I stare at the furniture and glance around the room for mirrors. An illusion must have hid the furniture.

  Sapphire Belladonna spreads her black floor-length skirt and sits gracefully. Silver Tiger somehow manages to nimbly flop into her seat.

  Can’t help feeling uncomfortable and underdressed in my T-shirt and jeans. I’m more than a little unnerved. Maybe I should just leave now.

  And not learn anything? To either confirm or deny what Patricia told me? No. I need answers. My curiosity is morphing into an obsession.

  I slowly walk around them to the vacate seat, glancing all around me. The cottage is mostly barren with a clock on one wall, a mirror on another. There’s a sooty fireplace. The table and chairs. Beneath the clock is a curio cabinet filled with glass figurines. A line of keepsakes rests on top of a mantel. It’s not exactly homey. A few plants might spruce up the place a bit.

  I sit gingerly, half expecting for the furniture to not be solid. It’s real and plush, not too firm nor soft. Perfect.