Secret of McKinley Mansion

by K. F. Breene

  “Good call. Yeah, that’s a better way to look at it.”

  “When you two lug nuts are ready…” Scarlet, who’d already reached the stairwell, held up her hands in aggravation.

  “Scarlet, are you sure you don’t want those carrot sticks?” I called after her, stuck behind the others.

  “No, no.” Braiden fell back with me. A lopsided grin twisted his full lips. “Let her go. This is hilarious. She always seems too sweet and reserved. I like this side of her.”

  “She doesn’t have sides,” Dirk muttered to Buffy. He glanced back at me. “She’s a nerd through and through.”

  Buffy and her friends laughed.

  Braiden stiffened. “I shouldn’t have invited them,” he murmured, for my ears alone. “I apologize. I thought they’d settle down once the decision was made to bring you and Scarlet.”

  “What were you planning on doing before you saw my notebook?”

  He shrugged, pausing for me to precede him down the stairs. Scarlet had already stomped down, with the others in tow. “Still a tour, but probably a far less interesting one. This town has an old-world feel to it. It’s different than any place I’ve ever been. I want a little insight, and what better way to get it than have the locals fill me in?”

  “Old world.” I huffed. “It’s a broken-down town on the road to nowhere. You’ll see. We’re all too stubborn or poor to uproot and start again somewhere else. We’re stuck here, just like the entities are stuck in our houses, dead for decades but unable to move on.”

  Braiden paused on the second-floor landing and held my gaze. “What if everyone renovated? Tore everything down and started over?”

  I didn’t break eye contact as I quirked my eyebrow. “There are plenty of new developments that are haunted—places built on old fields, that kind of thing. It isn’t the old buildings that keep the restless spirits here. It’s the mansion on the hill. It’s the town’s history of suffering.” I shook my head. “If you mowed down your house and built a new one in the same spot, I’ll bet the spirits would still be anchored there. The only way to escape this place is to leave.”

  Braiden gave me some distance as I finished the descent, probably thinking on what I’d said. That, or he was fighting his logic, his life up until a couple of days ago telling him I was a superstitious whack-job without a marble in my head.

  Out on the sidewalk, Scarlet swooped in and clutched my forearm, dragging me ahead of everyone else. “What are we doing here, Ella?” she asked through a clenched jaw. “We’re hanging out with a bunch of people who have been making fun of us for years. Add in some of your stories, and things will go downhill really quickly. Really quickly. We need to get out of here or our senior year is going to be unbearable.”

  I ran my hand through my hair, getting it stuck in a tangle of hairspray halfway through. I sighed, looking back at Braiden, who was surrounded by the others, all chatting amongst themselves. He stared down at the sidewalk, his brow furrowed.

  “You’re right,” I said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Yes I did. I was thinking about his touch. About the shivers it sent across my skin and the fire that filled my gut. But that was not something I planned on admitting. She’d just tell me what I already knew: Braiden was out of my league, and even if he wasn’t, he had become king of the popular crowd in two days. A person couldn’t get that kind of status without a thorough understanding of how to manipulate people. I was gullible by nature. I wouldn’t stand a chance with him.

  “You’re right,” I said again. “And even if he and some of his friends are into the ghost stories, that’s all it is to them. Stories. Fiction. They’ll catch on that I absolutely believe, and then…”

  “Hard-core make fun of you. Like in sixth grade when you described what it was like to get visited by the Old Woman. Remember that? The whole school laughed at you.”

  Of course I remembered. The only people who hadn’t were Janine, Alex, and Scarlet. Two of them because they knew the feeling from experience, and one because she wasn’t afraid to show the world that she believed me.

  That was when Scarlet had become my best friend.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said. “We can take the bus.”

  “We have to get our backpacks first. Just tell Braiden that—”

  “I don’t remember seeing this building in your notebook, Ella.” Braiden’s voice had a strange heaviness to it. He stood on the sidewalk a few paces back, staring up at the upper window in the antique store across the street.

  Scarlet’s hand fell away from my arm and her mouth dropped open. “I just saw something,” she hissed.

  “What? Where?” Nate said, moving closer to Braiden.

  “What’s happening?” Leo turned and looked, his head moving from side to side and his eyes darting all over the place.

  I drifted closer to Braiden, my curiosity piqued. Scarlet followed me. “What’s weird about that building?” I asked, following his gaze to the upper left window. Jagged cracks ran through the glass, two of them slathered with duct tape. The next window over, spaced two feet away, was the same, as if something had been thrown at them hard enough to maim but not to break.

  “It does look creepy,” Leo said. “I’ve always said that. Haven’t I said that, Dirk?”

  “It’s an antique shop. Of course it looks creepy.” Dirk rolled his eyes and shifted, looking down the sidewalk. “Come on. Let’s go. Unless you want to buy a lamp?”

  I studied the window that had Braiden’s undivided attention. The weakening sun was reflected on the corner of the glass, offsetting the dark area next to it. If anything was standing there, looking out at us, I couldn’t see it. Neither had I seen anything move, though I could understand how a shift in position would make the flare of the sun’s reflection give the illusion of someone stepping out of sight.

  The hollowness had returned to Braiden’s gaze, infused with wary intensity. Goosebumps covered his skin, and I belatedly noticed the tightness in his shoulders and his overall rigid stance.

  He hadn’t been messing around. Nor had he been mistaken. He wasn’t operating solely on his eyesight, like Scarlet was. Something told me he was using another sense, and he knew something had been in that window, looking down on us. Watching.

  My desire to grab my backpack evaporated.

  “Do you want to go inside?” I asked around the lump in my throat.

  Fear sparked in his eyes before his eyebrows pinched together and stubborn determination stole his expression. “Sure.”

  He was the type to confront his fears. I deflated, because for all of my talk, I was not.

  “Come on, really?” Dirk threw up his hands. “Look, Braiden, you have to understand. These girls think an army of the dead drifts through this town on a normal basis. They get nervous when the wind blows. That antique shop looks creepy because it sells old stuff. That’s all. Come on. At the other end of town I have a hookup. I can get us beer.”

  “Why would you want to drink beer?” Scarlet asked, annoyance bringing her hands to her hips. “It tastes like a punch in the face.” She pointed at the antique shop. “If the new guy wants to check out rusty stuff, why not let him?”

  “I still don’t see anything,” Cliff said.

  “Me neither.” Nate shifted, looking away from the face of the building. “Do you, Ella?”

  “Yeah, Fella. Do you see anything?” Dirk taunted.

  “Forget it,” Braiden said, walking forward. “Let’s head toward Dirk’s hookup.”

  “Finally.” Dirk threw his arm around Buffy. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they have wine coolers.”

  “Puh-lease. I drink beer, too.” She shrugged off his arm and added, “Which you should know, given how much you stare at parties.” Suddenly I didn’t dislike her quite so much.

  “I see now what you mean about some of the people in this town,” Braiden said quietly as the line of people spaced out in twos and awkward threes. Scarlet was one of the awkward ones, tag
ging along behind us, with Nate and Leo bringing up the rear. “Dirk is vehemently against anything to do with ghosts. Which strikes me as strange, given where he lives.”

  “His bedroom is at the back of his house.” I watched as Dirk fell back with Emily, leaving Buffy and Maria in the lead. “His family has never spoken of anything going on in their house. Either they are pretending nothing is wrong with dogged determination—similar to how some families pretend their lives are roses and sunshine when really they’re miserable—or they’ve lucked their way out of a haunting. Dirk might never have seen the Old Woman.”

  Braiden shook his head. “I find that hard to believe.”

  I shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. Whatever the reason, he’s vocally against the idea of ghosts. Like a lot of the town. It’s best to zip the lip.”

  “Unless you’re around like-minded friends.” His deep blue eyes twinkled down at me.

  “Yes,” I said, suddenly out of breath.

  “Did Ella tell you to never set foot outside of your house when the Old Woman comes calling?” Scarlet whispered, pushing forward until she was practically bumping into us. “Because that equals death. I don’t mean to be so dramatic, but… Actually, yes, I mean to be dramatic. Because that’s how Alex and Janine died. By succumbing to the desire to go to her.”

  Braiden’s eyes delved into mine, intense and troubled. “Ella mentioned that, yes, but my desire wasn’t to go to the Old Woman. Or to walk to the mansion.”

  “Oh, really? But you did get a candle, right? Because it’s strange that you didn’t want to go to her. Ella, did you know that?”

  My mouth dried up. “He mentioned that, yes.”

  “Huh. Have you ever heard of that happening?” Scarlet asked.

  “No—” I cleared my suddenly hoarse throat. “I haven’t.”

  “Me neither. But then again, we really only know about your experiences. Janine was a bit more open, but Alex never said much. Maybe they felt the same way Braiden did.”

  “Maybe Alex did,” Braiden said. “And maybe he didn’t answer the calling. I won’t make that same mistake.”

  Something warm and gooey bubbled up through my middle. I didn’t know what to say. How to respond.

  “Get”—Scarlet shoved Nate’s chest with her forearm—“back, would you? You’re sandwiching me.”

  “I’m just trying to hear what you all are saying,” Nate whined. “I’ve seen this town a million times. It sucks. Fill me in on the juicy stuff.”

  “You are way too into this, man,” Cliff said from in front of us.

  “Did you not hear Ella tell that ghost story the other day?” Nate frowned at Cliff. “Tell me you’re not interested in hearing another one. Go ahead. Tell me you aren’t hoping Ella tells another one.”

  Cliff shrugged and looked away.

  “That’s what I thought,” Nate said smugly.

  “Are you going to take us to the prison?” Leo asked.

  “What prison?” Dirk looked back. “It’s a stone wall.”

  “Yeah, it’s dumb. We had to go there for, like, a hundred class field trips,” Maria said.

  “A hundred? Really?” Leo asked sarcastically.

  “There’s no point in going to the old prison,” I said. “It is pretty lame.”

  “Finally.” Dirk threw up his hands. “Some sense.”

  “But if we turn right at the next block, we can check out the old mill.” I pointed, even though the leaders of the group wouldn’t be able to see my gesture.

  If Braiden wanted to see what horrors lurked in this town, I’d show him. It was time he knew exactly what his family had gotten him into by moving here.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The mill was somewhat removed from downtown, a massive two-and-a-half-story building, with the ground level sunken halfway into the hungry earth. Twisted weeds choked the dying grass along the side, dotted by drooping trees. A cracked and crumbling sidewalk cut a path near the street, lining the hulking structure that took up the whole block. Modest houses, many in disrepair, lined the other side of the streets, facing the mostly vacant beast.

  There were many vacant old buildings and residences in this town, but none so massive, with such little hope of ever being fully restored.

  “Those are signs for businesses,” Braiden said into the hush as our feet crunched through the gravel parking lot. “Maves?” He squinted at a small sign hanging above a window beside the door.

  “That’s a coffee shop,” I said.

  “It’s the best in town,” Maria said as she passed us with Buffy.

  “It’s not anywhere near as good as a beer,” Dirk muttered.

  Scarlet shook her head, but didn’t argue for once. Instead, she was looking at the front of the building with trepidation.

  Her and I had come here together exactly once. She’d never forgotten the experience. It was a wonder she was agreeing to come here now.

  “And they don’t have a problem with its history?” Braiden asked me quietly, standing close.

  I knew he meant ghosts instead of history, but I let it go. Baby steps. “Not really. A few sightings and talk of furniture moving, but it’s laughed off or it makes people roll their eyes. No one has caught any of it on camera or in a photo or anything, so without proof, it’s hearsay.”

  The rest of the group met us at the steps leading into what was actually the second floor. Brick walls painted over in cheery white lent the greeting area all of the appeal of a mental institution.

  A little farther in, the smell of freshly brewed coffee lightened things up, almost making the wayward wanderer forget the bloody nightmare that had happened in the belly of this mill.

  Almost.

  “I’m getting coffee,” Buffy said with a raised chin. She strolled through a brick arch to a newer wooden door.

  The other two girls followed her.

  “Braiden, you want something?” Dirk asked, stalling near the arch with his hands in his pocket. He stared at a small grouping of furniture that had been arranged against the wall leading to the bathrooms. Two rocking chairs abutted a coffee table, all of it arranged on a red rug. A tall plant shot up beside it, its leaves dusting the edge of the tabletop.

  If not for the vibe of violence oozing from the walls, the place might’ve been homey. Certainly comfortable.

  As it was, I felt the press of the building on my shoulders, grinding my feet into the ground.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Yeah. A coffee. Two packets of sugar.” Braiden walked into the center of the large room, where he had full visibility of the corridor beyond.

  “Nate?” Dirk asked, relief crossing his face.

  “Nah. That’ll mess me up for practice. Get me a water, would ya? I’ll get you back next time.” Nate caught up to Braiden as everyone else besides Scarlet and me went for coffee. Clearly coffee trumped ghost stories.

  “I’ve always thought this place was creepy. They do it up for Halloween. That’s probably why.” Nate nodded to himself as he looked around.

  Braiden took what looked like a grudging step toward the entrance of the corridor. To the eye, not much changed beyond the colors. The deep brown of the hardwood floor ran on, but the bricks were painted a much dingier white. Dark gray, almost black lines outlined each brick, and no windows lined the walls until the very end. Shadows pooled at the bases of the walls and stretched overhead until interrupted by one of the weak lights running in a straight line on the ceiling.

  “Ella, you want coffee?” Scarlet asked, backing toward the archway leading to the little shop.

  “Yes, please. You know what I like.” I took a deep breath, watching her go. “And then there were three.”

  “What’s through there?” Braiden pointed down a side hallway leading away and to the right.

  “Uh…” I thought for a moment. “An art studio, I think. Like I said, this building is huge, but a lot of it is closed to the public. It needs a serious rework. That wing has a couple businesses, and the
re’s room for a couple more, I think.” I glanced around at the pictures on the walls, the little sitting areas, and the small, badly leaning bookcase at the back with a tree. “This area is a cute central hub to what they hope will be a business park, of sorts.”

  “It’s not cute.” Braiden glanced at the ceiling. Then the walls. He gave a shiver. “It’s off.”

  “Yeah.” Nate nodded, looking around. “I get that. Off. Like…it feels weird?”

  Clearly he didn’t get it at all.

  I shook my head and started forward. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

  Two doors stood dark and ominous at the end of the corridor. Sitting in front of the doors was an old-style wooden school chair, complete with a half desk. It sat peacefully in front of a tiny white bookcase. Near the shelves, a thin black cord hung down from the ceiling, stopping four feet from the ground. Its purpose was unclear. Off to the side was an easel without a canvas.

  Someone often set up little tableaus in that corner, and this was clearly no exception.

  I stepped across the invisible threshold separating the corridor from the entrance area, an action that, for some reason I didn’t understand, awoke all manner of activity within the old building.

  “Oh wow.” Nate paused just beyond the line. He looked back the way he’d come. “That’s weird.” He stepped back across the line. Then forward again. His eyebrows lowered. “I could have sworn the temperature just dropped.”

  Braiden drifted to the middle of the wide corridor, his movements slow, his face a stone mask. “I felt that.”

  “No, but…see”—Nate put a finger to his temple with a crooked smile—“you didn’t, because I just retraced my steps, and the temperature wasn’t different. She’s getting to us, man.” He laughed delightedly. “She’s getting inside our heads.” He shook his head as we neared the empty desk facing the one window at the end of the corridor. White light spilled across the shiny, empty surface. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not Mr. Morris—I don’t think she’s into witchcraft or anything. That guy’s got a screw loose. I’m saying it’s cool—”