The Witch Cave

by Sara Clancy

  Ava pouted slightly. “Is this a disease I should be concerned about? Or are we talking about something really obscure? I want to know if further questioning will bring out your inner disease researcher.”

  “Pathologist?” Mina offered, biting back a smile at her friend’s teasing. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘pathologist.’”

  “Whatever. I did bio in high school, that was enough for me,” Ava dismissed.

  Concern still lingered in Ava’s eyes as Mina shook her head.

  “It’s ridiculously obscure,” Mina assured. “At most, only four people die of Katrina a year. I’ve just taken an interest in it lately. You know, research and prevention. Raising awareness. My parents think I should leave it well enough alone.”

  “I’ll listen.” Knocking Mina with her elbow, Ava added, “So long as there’s no slide show presentation.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll let you know if it leads to anything.” She beamed at her friend. “Now, let’s go hunt some ghosts.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I could use the distraction.” She stalked into the building, checking her watch again. “Now we’re going to be late.”

  “Don’t even try it. I know you set your watch fifteen minutes early. We’ll be there just in time.”

  “Ava, for you, ‘just in time’ is a kind way of saying late.”

  “What is wrong with you?” Ava chuckled.

  Their banter stopped when they entered the main foyer. Their footsteps echoed off the marble walls and rolled up to the lofty ceiling. Mina craned her head back to examine the elaborate chandeliers. The suspended crystals cast small rainbows amongst the clusters. Before them, a small staircase lined with a brilliant blue carpet split in two. The ends then continued in opposite directions to bracket the carved arches and pillars that lined the balconies.

  “Wow,” Ava said, the word ending in a slight giggle. “Not what I was expecting.”

  Mina turned in a slow circle as they crossed the foyer. “This place is incredible.”

  “Thank you.”

  Both girls jumped at the sudden addition. A man emerged from the area behind the stairs, a warm smile on his face and his hands held up in surrender.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I’m not a ghost, promise.” his brisk chuckle gave way to a professional appraisal of each girl. “I’m Stephen, the tour guide for the night. I’m guessing one of you is Willimina Crane?”

  Mina strode forward to meet the man. Shaking his hand, she made the introductions and apologized for being late.

  “No, you’re right on time,” Stephen said.

  Mina ignored Ava’s widening grin.

  “We’re going to start on the lower floor,” he said. “I’ll get you to sign in and then we can get started. You’re the last of the group to arrive.”

  Once Stephen walked ahead to lead the way, Mina spun on her heel, throwing a smug smile in Ava’s direction. Ava's middle finger flew up in response. Soon enough, everything was in order and they passed under the staircase on the right.

  “So, you guys are ghost hunters?” Stephen asked.

  “Every girl needs a hobby,” Ava replied.

  “It’s intellectual curiosity,” Mina said.

  And survival. Since childhood, Mina had fought to free her family of the superstitions that held them hostage. Now she knew better. The only way to save them is to kill a ghost. For nearly two hundred years, the four families had been playthings for the Bell Witch. It seemed almost impossible that it could ever change but, in the coming hours, she’d learn if they had been successful in their attempt. First attempt, Mina corrected herself. We’re better prepared this time. And we’ll be stronger the time after that. However long it took, this was a fight neither she nor Katrina Hamilton was about to walk away from.

  “Ah. So, what do you do when you’re not indulging your curiosity?”

  “I’m working in a hotel at Niagara Falls,” Ava said. Nudging Mina with her elbow, she continued, “And Mina here is going to Pennsylvania State. She’s going to be a lawyer. Or is that doctor? Oh, no, FBI agent.”

  Why? Mina mouthed the word to her friend with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.

  “Wow,” Stephen laughed. “Someone’s an overachiever.”

  “And we’re so proud of her for it,” Ava declared, stooping a little to loop an arm around Mina’s shoulders. “Oh, don’t be so sour. It’s our whole friendship dynamic to live vicariously through each other.”

  Mina arched an eyebrow.

  “I get to pretend I have some direction in my life. And you pretend that you’re not an obsessive bore.”

  They entered a hallway drenched in royal blue. The ceiling, walls, and all the doors that lined it were the same deep shade. Only the rivulets of gold that weaved through the carpet added some deviation. The color saturation made it nearly impossible to tell the true length of the corridor. Stephen paused and turned a sly smile onto the girls.

  “That’s a lot of hard sciences. You’re not here just to laugh at the believers, are you?”

  “No, of course not,” Ava said.

  “It’s fine if you’re a skeptic,” Stephen said, lifting his hands. “We’ve just had some trouble in the past with hardliners on either side of the fence ruining it for everyone else. I have to ask.”

  “We’re here to try and catch sight of a ghost,” Ava assured.

  “So, you believe in the supernatural?”

  “No,” Mina said, continuing when they both turned to her with questioning looks. “The human body works the same way now as it did when we were boring holes in the skull to release demons. Just because ghosts are beyond our current scientific understanding doesn’t mean that they’re mystical. It just means that we haven’t figured it out yet.”

  An indulgent smile curled Ava’s lips even as she rolled her eyes. “Remember how you weren’t going to suck the fun out of this?”

  Mina’s brow furrowed. “The scientific method is fun.”

  “Right. Well,” Stephen cleared his throat. “Let’s get this tour going, shall we?”

  They walked the rest of the way in somewhat awkward silence. Passing through huge double doors, they entered the main hall. Rows of blue velvet seats stretched out on either side to create an undulating sea. The six layers of balconies were edged with rippling gold and lined with curtains like waterfalls. Paint, silver, and glass worked together to create the illusion of water across the dome ceiling.

  “I feel like I’m underwater,” Ava whispered to Mina.

  She nodded her agreement. They took a narrow path around the orchestra pit to join everyone else on stage. With the same swift professionalism, Stephen made the introductions and got the tour going.

  “Welcome to the Leviathan. A place of music, mystery, and murder.” He spread his arms out wide to bring their attention to the incredible building around them. “Fun fact, its construction was the result of a bet. In 1901, Duke Edmund Armitage became infatuated with an opera singer and, after he refused to take ‘no’ for an answer, they struck a wager. If he could present her with a composition she was incapable of singing, she’d marry him. If she could master it, however, he’d build her an opera house.”

  Mina scanned the endless pattern of hard walls and darkened balconies. It looks like a beehive. Mina’s skin went cold. The comparison lingered in her mind, dredging up carefully avoided memories of how Katrina had used her deepest fear against her.

  “As you can see, she won,” Stephen continued. “Although, many believed she had some outside help. Rumors had been swirling for years that the diva was tangled up in witchcraft.”

  Murmurs went through the group, and Stephen waited for silence once more before continuing, “People believed this building was cursed. It didn’t help that our diva insisted on being the only one to know the floorplan in its entirety. There’s nothing like hidden rooms and hallways to nowhere to make a person think something’s not quite right. Just last week we f
ound a wardrobe hidden away within a marble pillar. So, keep an eye out and don’t venture too far from the group.” He dipped his voice to something mysterious but playful. “The Leviathan’s got a long history of unexplained disappearances and deadly accidents after all.”

  A few giggles drifted up from the group at the comment; he proceeded to explain how the building had been saved from disrepair by a historical preservation society and what it was currently used for. It all faded into background noise as Mina spotted the giant, gilded octopus that sat above the main entrance. Its tentacles spread out along the walls, circled the booth above it, and held aloft a sapphire-studded crown. Something clicked within her head as she stared at the silver-plated eyes.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “The Leviathan was built with an Italian influence,” Stephen said. “Traditionally, that’ll be the royal booth.”

  “I meant the octopus.”

  “Oh, that was the diva’s influence,” he grinned. “She was obsessed with the kraken, so decided to put one on the booth. Because, as she put it, ‘few are my equal and none are my superior.’”

  It can’t be. It just can’t. “What was her name?”

  “Bernadette,” Stephen said. “Bernadette Allaway.”

  “Are you kidding me!” The words were out before she could stop them.

  Clamping her mouth tight, she waved an awkward apology and fixed her gaze on the floor. Basheba’s ancestor. The small blonde had told her more than once that people focused too much on the Bell line, completely forgetting that her mother’s family had a history, too. Is this what she meant?

  Glancing around the room, she felt a new sense of dread. The décor didn’t scream Basheba. She was all fire and rage and raw emotion. This place was as deep and cool as the ocean floor. But there was the kraken symbol, the name, and the slightly threatening undercurrent that accompanied Basheba’s presence. The building didn’t look like her, but it felt like her. What are the odds of having both sides of your family entangled with ghosts? The thought had barely formed when she jolted.

  “Rumors of witchcraft,” Mina whispered, her insides turning to ice. “Basheba’s ancestor was a witch?”

  Chapter 3

  I should call Cadwyn. Mina had kept the older man’s number on speed dial since her close encounter with Basheba’s more violent nature a few months ago. Time hadn’t diminished the chill that worked down Mina's spine whenever she thought about it.

  She never hesitates, Mina thought. The petite blonde would just as quickly try to murder someone as she would die to protect them. Mina had experienced it firsthand and she still didn’t know how to deal with the implications. It would be easier if she could believe the Bell woman was a sociopath.

  She fits some of it. The thought was instantly countered by the more logical part of her mind. Everyone does to some extent. Superficially charming, manipulative, selfish. Mina gathered up the end of her ponytail and began to tap her hair against her bottom lip. She’s also compulsive, she argued with herself. Driven by a deep-seated rage and has only a rudimentary understanding of remorse and empathy. Call Cadwyn.

  Her free hand went for her front pocket, feeling the solid weight of her cell phone. She doesn’t lack empathy, her mind groused at itself. She’s obsessed with her dog and is utterly devoted to her dead relatives. Her emotions aren’t shallow or fake. They rule her.

  “Which would make her all the more dangerous if she is a witch,” Mina mumbled around her hair.

  The urge to call Cadwyn struck her again. Always the voice of reason, Cadwyn had the rare skill of talking Basheba back from her impulses. Mina had witnessed it, she owed her life to it, but she wasn’t certain how deep that bond went or how much sway the man actually had over her. Or how much she has over him.

  The internal debate threatened to take a new turn—contemplating just how far Cadwyn would go to support a friend. He stayed with his possessed brother, alone, for a whole year, and then put him out of his misery when all hope was lost. Memories of the demon that had stood outside their door flitted across her mind. It remembered Cadwyn by name. If he went that far for his brother, would it be much of an effort to ignore Basheba’s activities? Mina stilled, shame washing over her as she berated herself for such unfounded leaps of logic. Stop making up paranoid ‘what ifs!’

  “Observation and hypothesis don’t equal evidence,” Mina whispered to herself.

  “Did you say something?” Ava asked.

  Mina barely registered the question and replied with a quick shake of her head. Used to her overthinking by now, Ava didn’t push the issue and wandered across Mina’s peripheral vision.

  Stephen had outfitted the tour group with Electro-Magnetic Frequency readers and set them off to explore the ground floor. Most of them had quickly lost interest in the stage. Leaving it for either the seats or slipping behind the painted backdrop. It gave Mina a certain degree of silence to think. She quickly tried to set her scattered thoughts into some kind of order.

  Basheba has survived the Harvest twice. She’s been in the body recovery groups since she was a child. She frowned. Hypothetically, being a witch might give her some degree of protection in those situations. It’s nowhere near conclusive, though. Basheba’s knowledge of plant life spoke more to her survivalist skills. And the blonde didn’t need to be using her family’s wedding rings as talismans to explain her protectiveness of them. Is there even any evidence of her being evil? A chill ran down her spine as one memory slammed into the forefront of her mind—being chased through the woods by the cult. A man held a knife to Basheba’s throat. In return, Basheba had ripped his throat out with her teeth. Long pig, Mina recalled Basheba boast. Her mother had taught her how to hunt long pig.

  “People,” she whispered along. “Her mother trained her to be a murderer.”

  It was the first time she had voiced the haunting thought out loud. Her brain went silent in response. Have you ever seen Basheba do anything that even looks like witchcraft? Mina contemplated the self-asked question, examining each of her memories in turn.

  “I’ve never seen her do a ritual.”

  “Huh?” Ava’s question jerked Mina from her thoughts.

  She moved her hair away from her mouth. “Sorry?”

  “You’re talking to yourself again.”

  “I don’t talk to myself.”

  “Yeah, you do. To a ridiculous degree,” Ava dismissed. “So, what’s this about a ritual?”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Okay, shut up before I get insulted,” Ava cut in. “We’re finally at the Leviathan and you’re too busy obsessing to focus on the awesome. So, level with me. What’s on your mind?”

  “It’s nothing. I figured it out, anyway.” Mina forced an apologetic smile and added in a playful tone, “Conclusion: no evidence of witchcraft.”

  Ava rolled her eyes at the attempted joke and motioned her closer with a jerk of her head. They started to pace the stage, watching the little dial of their EMF reader flicker wildly within the normal range.

  “How would you even know?” Ava asked abruptly.

  Mina glanced up, “What’re you talking about?”

  “Well, think about it. Are you a witch?”

  “No.”

  “Then how would you know what real witchcraft looks like?” Ava asked. “All you’ve got to go on are paranoid people’s hearsay and horror movies based on paranoid people’s hearsay. Wicca and voodoo are religions, not just magic, so you can’t ask them. And I suppose you can’t ask Satanists for similar reasons.”

  “So, your question is: how can someone identify witchcraft when they have no idea what real witchcraft looks like?”

  “Exactly.”

  The small amount of comfort Mina had managed to create for herself shattered with the thought.

  “Oh, no. Not your obsessive face again,” Ava sighed. “Stay with me, Mina. You don’t have to worry about it. Magic isn’t real.”

  “But ghosts are?” Mina challe
nged with an arched eyebrow.

  “Hey, you’re the one who made the argument for it. I can wrap my head around them existing. But mixing a few different herbs together and saying a secret phrase to completely alter reality? That’s a little far-fetched.”

  I’ve seen a witch. I’ve touched monsters. It’s all real. The words got lost in Mina’s throat. Instead, she forced a smile.

  “Right. Okay, let’s focus,” Ava declared. “I want to see a ghost.”

  After pacing the stage once more, Ava decided to wander around the side curtains. Mina followed at a slower pace. Before she could slip behind the hanging side curtains, a sudden scream shattered the calm like a crack of lightning. She whipped around to look over the ocean of seats.

  The stage lights glared, scattering blinding balls of fire across her vision. Beneath it, people still shuffled through the seats, a few of them looking around to try and track down the source of the scream. It’s the acoustics, she realized. It made all the noises echo until it was impossible to tell where it had originated from.

  She held her breath, tension growing thick in her stomach, her eyes searching every inch of the building that she could see. A second later, a woman excitedly waved her husband over, the podgy man hurrying to comply. Mina rubbed her forehead as her shoulders slumped. I’m getting paranoid. As she turned to leave, her gaze swept higher, slipping over the royal box. An ebony silhouette stood embossed upon the dim glow from the hallway beyond it. Ice cracked through her veins. An instinctual warning that something wasn’t right.

  “Mina?” Ava whispered excitedly. “Have you found something?”

  Fixated on the specter, Mina began to move. She was jarred out of her thoughts when she suddenly lost her balance. Throwing her arms out, she looked down to find her toes had inched over the edge of the stage. She teetered on the verge of toppling into the orchestra pit.

  “Mina!” Ava’s footsteps hurried toward her.

  Somehow managing to not fall, she staggered back a step and twisted around to reply to her friend. A disembodied face lunged toward her, screaming, rotten, and distorted. Pain exploded across her face as it crunched into her and she fell. It was a short, gut-wrenching drop. The impact drove the air from her lungs and left her gasping in pain.