by Sara Clancy
Ozzie squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to focus, to breathe. What would Cadwyn do? This time, he had no answer. Desperately, his mind whirled. What would Basheba do? Lacking both her knife and her barbaric ferocity, there was little he could do to mimic Basheba Bell. What would Mina do?
His thoughts took on Willimina Crane’s voice as they weaved through the laughter, repeating a phrase she often unknowingly rambled to herself while lost in thought. Observation. Hypothesis. Experiment. His body trembled as he crowded harder against the wall. They’re fast. But they’re huge. Ozzie snapped his eyes open. The spelunking tunnels. Some of the paths were barely wide enough from him to squeeze through, and they were built of unrelenting concrete and metal. If I can get to those, they won’t be able to follow.
Glancing around, he spotted the nearest entrance on the opposite wall. It was separated from him by only a few dozen feet of shark-infested water.
His first thought was to keep to the pit wall and work his way around, slow and steady. Before he could move, however, he discovered that option was no longer viable. Blood blossomed through the blue water. The shark that had taken his belt had drawn too much attention. The others swarmed, taking a bit of flesh each time they glided past it. Ozzie didn’t see the strikes. His focus was on the blood.
His head spun as he watched it seep out into the dark water, a stain that spread all the faster as the feeding frenzy took over. Ozzie plastered himself against the wall. Near hyperventilating, his eyes stretched painfully wide, he watched the impossibly vibrant red spread out to consume the world around him. It’s a trick! Whatever logic he could gather together in his panic couldn’t compete with what his senses were telling him. He still saw it. Thick, red, almost incandescent blood coiled through the black water. His oxygen tank whirled and thumped in protest. The polluted liquid pushed against him and he swore he could smell it. Taste it. It was there even when he closed his eyes. Blood. Crimson and warm. It’s not real! It can’t be real! The laughter seemed to rise and fall as it spiraled around him, a distorted warning that he was close to passing out.
Don’t, he pleaded with himself. It’s only blood—fake blood. It’s all just a trick. I can do this. He forced down one deep breath. The water grew warmer against his skin. A coppery tang replaced the tinge of plastic that hovered on the compressed air. Hemophobia, Mina had called it. A fear of blood. Placing a scientific name against his childhood fear helped a little. Not a lot. But he was almost able to see it as something to be studied rather than felt. Something he might be able to control.
Bile burned at the back of his throat as he began to gag. Before he could throw up the limited contents of his stomach, the water thrashed hard, creating a compression wave that battered him along the curved wall. Groaning in pain, he forced his eyes back open just in time to see a half-eaten monster flopping against the wall beside him. The ceramic tiles chipped with every strike. Another surged upon it, shredding it apart to gorge itself. The face continued to laugh as it was obliterated.
The water changed as he watched. It wasn’t just that it was tainted by the blood. It became blood. And all the creatures within it were reduced to little more than shifting shadows. Chunks of flesh emerged to bob and prod at his body. Go! Cadwyn had shouted the words to him more than once. And now, just like then, Ozzie darted forward to obey. There was no need to hide his movements anymore.
The feeding frenzy had changed the once placid water into an overlapping series of undertows. Each one grabbed at him, carrying him up or dragging him down. Kicking as hard as he could, his arms up to shield his face, Ozzie battled against it. His heart sputtered each time something emerged toward him. Sharks swept past, sending him spiraling in their wake. Raw flesh seemed drawn to him. It slowed him down as he struggled against the thickening blood.
He never saw what hit him. Just felt the searing pain as teeth slashed across his side, cutting through the thick material of his wetsuit to open his skin. The pain forced him to curl in on himself and clutch his side. Focusing everything he had on the sole task of getting to the other side, he forced himself to keep going.
The wall emerged abruptly from the abyss. He crashed into it, swimming too fast for his raised arms to stop his head from smacking against the tiles. Pain exploded as his goggles were driven into his face. Lights danced across his eyes, breaking up the blanket of red. The impact created a fine crack in the tough plastic and the blood began to seep through it. Ozzie retched painfully, barely stifling his urge to vomit as the warm liquid welled against his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to spare himself the sight.
With trembling hands, he battered at the wall, blindly searching for the tunnel opening. The wound on his side pulsated in time with his rapid heartbeat. The churning water shoved him in every direction. But it was the laughter that brought him to the edge of madness. All he could do was keep moving forward, his hands tapping the way until he found nothing but empty water.
The opening! He surged toward it, slithering through the hole and mapping the innards by touch. I know this tunnel. The realization left him breathlessly giddy. It wasn’t an easy trail, but it led to an opening. He’d made the journey dozens of times. Enough that he knew bits and pieces even without sight.
Jagged obstacles rose to almost block the path, forcing him to squirm his way into smaller and smaller tunnels. The promise of air drove him on even as he was forced to contort himself painfully to weave through the gaps. The ceiling scraped against his tank while the flooring prodded at the wound on his stomach. No matter how far he traveled, the chaos of laughter and rioting beasts remained right behind him. The tumbling water made everything harder as it threw him against the peaks.
Suddenly, the walls began to tremble, the vibrations working against his gloved fingertips and pressing against him when the passage was narrow. Cold sweat pooled under his wetsuit when he realized that they weren’t just fine tremors. They were impacts. They’re trying to follow.
Large fissures snaked through the concrete, felt more than seen, as tiles broke free and rained down upon him. He surged forward through a gap but, with a sharp crack, he was held back. He forced himself to open his eyes to see what the problem was. The tank, he realized after several failed attempts. The tank’s too big! In his desperation, he had forgotten the main use of this particular trail—to teach people emergency rescue situations. Meaning that those who came this way used a handheld Scorkl.
How much air do they hold? He struggled to remember as the tunnel crumbled around him. Ten minutes? How long does it take to get down here? How long can I hold my breath? Debris toppled from the crimson muck to smack against him. Ozzie yanked at the straps of his scuba tank, preferring to drown rather than be eaten alive.
The wall beside him exploded into a bloody storm of ghostly laughing faces, fractured ceramics, and teeth. Ozzie ripped the tank free and, after dragging in one last breath, disconnected the tubes and opened the valve. It shot off in a flurry of bubbles, bouncing off of unseen obstacles and, hopefully, buying him some time. He wiggled into the small gap as fast as he could, his lungs already aching.
Blood half-filled his goggles and sloshed into his eyes with every motion. He forced his eyes to stay open as he navigated the twists and turns. Desperate for even a hint of guidance. Starved for air, his body began to tremble violently and his veins felt like they were on fire. His heartbeat struck his insides like the blows of a hammer.
Keep going. It’s just up here. Keep going. His stomach rolled like the ocean in a storm. He bit his lips, terrified he would lose what little air he had if he gagged. Shrieking giggles hovered around him, the only constant in the underwater maze. A fog filled his mind. The muscles of his neck squeezed and fluttered in useless attempts to get him to breathe. You can do this. He put everything he had into making his mental voice stronger than he felt. You don’t have a choice.
He surged forward to find a wall blocking his path. Desperately, he pounded against the tiles, searchi
ng for somewhere to go. The walls were solid, the floor complete and undisturbed. His eyes rolled back in his head as his body thrashed with renewed force. Hot blood filled his goggles to blur his vision. Even as the last of his strength sapped away, his body fought harder, pushing against his conscious decision not to breathe. Frantic, he swung an arm up, feeling the change of sensation a heartbeat later. Air! His fist had reached air. A part of his brain could only stammer that it had to be a cruel trick, but he couldn’t hold back, couldn’t keep himself from barreling forward.
Planting his flippered feet against the ground, he leaped up, expecting the pain of crashing once more into unrelenting walls. The air that greeted him didn’t feel real. For one dizzy moment, he was sure that it was just another of the Witch’s games, a cruel trick to get him to take the water into his lungs. Then he blinked, and the world shifted. Gone was any sign of the monsters, the laughter, the blood. He was bobbing in the shallow pool at the end of the spelunking tunnels. The walls echoed back the dripping water that fell from him as he stood up. It did little to cover the ringing in his ears in the sudden silence. He jumped when the doors flung open and his trainer sprinted inside, a few coworkers following in his wake.
“What were you thinking? Are you okay? Why didn’t you just come up?”
Ozzie blinked owlishly. Still dizzy, he couldn’t pry the stream of words apart into separate questions. They all just blended into a garbled mess. And he didn’t know how to answer. Gulping air, he numbly pulled his goggles off. A deep crack connected the right side of the lens with the left. Hands descended upon the cut in Ozzie’s side and gripped tight.
“He’s bleeding.”
They helped him out of the water before he could reel away from the agonizing touch. It really cut me. Ozzie stared at the open wound. But how? How did she do it? What about the monsters? Were they real? A light touch to his knee made him jump and he looked up to meet his trainer’s gaze. “Ozzie, what happened?”
“Did you see anything in the tank with me?”
“What? No. You hired out the entire area, remember?”
Ozzie could only blink slowly, his insides swirling.
“Have you found a music box? It’s a cube. Wood and gold. It would probably show up where it couldn’t possibly be?”
The instructor couldn’t keep the frustration and confusion from his face. “Ozzie, there’s no box. Now, what happened?”
Ozzie easily avoided the question by abruptly vomiting on the man.
Chapter 2
Willimina Crane pulled her dark hair into a tight ponytail as they entered the parking lot. The ancient building loomed up above them, its shadows deep and cold, its architecture looking completely out of place around the rundown hotels and cheap restaurants. Ava pulled the car into one of the open parking spaces and turned off the engine. For a moment, the girls simply sat there, leaning forward to stare up at the building.
“So, this is the Leviathan,” Ava mumbled.
“It’s bigger than I thought it would be.” Mina looked at her watch. “We better hurry up or we’ll miss the tour. Okay, what is it?”
“Huh?”
“It’s been a five-hour drive from Penn State. I’ve had plenty of time to notice the strange looks you’ve been giving me.”
“Why do you have to be so specific?” Ava said. “It’s weird. Just say you’ve had plenty of time.”
“Fine. You’ve had plenty of time to get to the point. Now we’re under a time constraint so can we speed this along?”
After eyeing her carefully for a long moment, Ava slipped out of the car, leaving Mina to follow. The conversation was put on hold for a moment as they checked the contents of their backpacks.
“You have the EMF reader, right?” Mina asked.
Her friend waved the device in the air before putting it in the bag again.
“I have the salt,” Mina assured before noticing the way her childhood friend looked at the car.
“I can’t believe you just bought this thing,” Ava chuckled.
“I couldn’t find a rental company that did business with anyone under twenty-five,” she mumbled.
“So you bought it.”
“Ozzie bought it,” Mina corrected. “I’m going to sell it when we head back and give him the money.”
“Is this the same Ozzie who bought you a house?”
Mina took a deep breath. We’ve been over this. “He didn’t buy me a house. I’m just the live-in housekeeper.”
“But they don’t live in the house?”
“Mrs. Davis is a huge baseball fan. She even follows college games. So, they only need the house during the season.”
“And, for the rest of the year, you live rent-free in a gorgeous three-story stone house. That’s a pretty great deal.”
“They’ve been very generous with me,” Mina smiled. “I would have been homeless if it wasn’t for them.”
“Because your cousin kicked you out?”
Mina bristled. “Are we finally approaching the topic?”
Ava shrugged one shoulder. “How long have we known each other, Mina? Late October to early November has always been your ‘family time.’ Every year. No exceptions.”
Pulling her backpack onto her shoulder, Mina slammed the door shut and started walking. It didn’t take long for Ava to catch up.
“Three weeks ago, you were all set to head home to California. Now we’re in Virginia on a ghost hunt. I think it’s kind of natural for me to have a few questions, don’t you?”
“The Leviathan is supposed to be one of the most haunted buildings in America. Well, one of the ones that won’t be overrun by tourists. It’s our best chance for an encounter.”
“True, but not what I was asking.”
“I need a subject to test my theory,” Mina continued as they took the stairs to the grand front entrance. “This place is probably our best shot of finding one without interference.”
“Mina,” Ava said in a sing-song voice. “You’re avoiding the topic.”
Standing in the threshold, she whirled to face Ava. “I’ve been exiled.”
Ava almost tripped over her own feet. “Exiled? Do people still do that?”
“My dad does. He made it clear that I’m not to contact any relatives or attend family functions without his express permission.”
“That’s insane.”
Mina swung her arms out in a helpless shrug. “It is what it is.”
“But your dad adores you.”
“Yeah, well,” Mina squirmed again, not sure how to explain what had happened. “I never told you that my family is cursed, have I?”
Watching her friend’s eyes widen, Mina realized that she couldn’t go through with it. Some things just had to stay within the families.
“Genetically, I mean,” she rushed to add. “It’s this rare disorder that follows our bloodline. Onset is swift and unpredictable. There’s no cure.”
“Oh my God, Mina. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I never believed it.” I thought the Bell Witch was just legend and superstition. “There were stories, of course. But they were watered down into fairy tales. Nothing I took seriously. It’s a long-standing family tradition to keep all the gory details from the uninfected. Only the infected are fully informed. And, if they survive their temporary flare-up, they’re encouraged to keep all the details to themselves.”
“That’s insane,” Ava whispered, clearly not sure how to respond.
Having gone this far, Mina found herself struck with the urge to continue. “A year ago, I was diagnosed.”
Ava dragged her into a crushing hug before Mina realized what was happening.
“It’s okay, Ava. I got through it. I’m all right.”
Memories of the Harvest, of her return, flashed across her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out. Ava pulled back abruptly and grasped Mina by her shoulders. This close, it was hard for Mina to hide everything that threatened to show on her face. It’s ove
r. I’m okay.
“Are you sure you’re fine?” Ava asked.
She forced a smiled. “Yeah. The worst of the symptoms only last a few days. And there’s every chance that I’ll never have another attack.”
If I’m not selected, someone else will be. Her gut knotted at the thought. Katrina Hamilton, the Bell Witch, wasn’t above going after children or the elderly. If not me, it could be great-grandpa. Or baby Elizabeth. She twisted her hand in the strap of her backpack, trying not to imagine the infant receiving a music box.
“What is this disease called? What does it do?” Ava asked.
“I’d prefer not to get into it right now.”
“Right, okay.” Ava gave her shoulders a reassuring rub. “Wait. Why is your dad mad about this?”
“Because I told the kids,” Mina said.
“You spilled the secrets?”
“To every family member who would listen. Knowing what’s waiting for them might not be pleasant, but it’s the truth. Ignorance doesn’t help anyone. Having an understanding of the facts is the only thing that’s going to save us.” She trailed off as she realized she was on the verge of ranting, months of frustration boiling under her skin.
“And your dad reacted badly?” Ava pushed gently.
“Both of my parents did. Essentially, they told me to look pretty and keep my mouth shut, or don’t come home.” Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and she blinked rapidly to force them back. “I couldn’t do it. Isn’t that the whole point of family? A gentle hand and brutal honesty?”
“I guess that’s one way to put it,” Ava said with a weak smile.
Mina swallowed thickly and clutched her conviction. “Omitting the truth is as good as being complicit. I’d rather die than help Katrina.”
“Who’s Katrina?”
Huffing a laugh, Mina shook her head. “Just the name of the disease.”