by Darian Smith
Sara reached out to touch the one closest to her. It was hard and cold. “It’s stone.”
“Really?” Nate tapped one himself. “Why? What’s it supposed to be?”
“I don’t know.” Sara moved forward, turning to take in the room. It was like being in some kind of haphazard spider web or a fossilized jungle tree house tied together by Tarzan. And that was it, she realized. The vines did tie something together. “It’s the mantelpiece motif.”
Nate frowned. “What?”
“On the fireplace upstairs. It has vines carved into the mantle. If you look around the house, it’s everywhere. Well, the older parts of it anyway. There are vines on everything. I was going to use them as part of the restoration.”
“And these are, what? Left over carvings they stuck in the basement? Some sort of art installation?”
“No, it’s more than that.” Sara shook her head. This wasn’t a haphazard placement of stone carvings. There was something to it. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Bridget? Did you do this?”
There was no response from the ghost.
“Who’s Bridget?” asked Nate.
“One of the people who built the house.” She traced a finger over the nearest vine, following it deeper into the room. There was no dust, no grime, just smooth, cool stone. “This is the heart of it,” she said. “The heart of the house.”
“I’d always heard that was the kitchen.” Nate’s tone was dry as he followed her into the web of vines, just a few steps behind.
“Not this one.” Sara could feel something drawing her forward, calling to her. There was a pattern to the stone vines. A thickening of their intersections the further into the middle of the room she went. After a few steps, she had to duck and weave to get past the stone foliage. At last, she reached its core – a thicket of vines producing a kind of cabinet of stone in the centre of the room, and, she suspected, the centre of the house itself.
“Here it is.” She reached into the opening left by the tangled vines, her fingers touching, feeling around, seeking. Something warm and furry brushed against her.
She yelped and jumped back.
A low rumbling noise emanated from the space. Two shining green eyes peered out of the darkness.
“What is it?” Nate hurried forward.
Sara sneezed. “I think I found Oscar.” She reached back in and pulled out the kitten. He snuggled into to her, purring even louder.
Nate chuckled. “Well that’s something.”
Sara handed the kitten over to him and turned back to the vine cabinet. “There’s something else. This is here for a reason, I know it.” She reached into the space again. This time her fingers closed on something hard and rounded. “Got it.”
“Got what?”
“This.” She drew her hand back out of the gap and held up a stone water lily. The only blossom on any vine in the entire house.
“A flower?” Nate was unimpressed.
“Look closer,” said Sara. She’d already seen the tell-tale sparkle in the torchlight produced by her phone.
In the centre of the lily, hooked over the stamen, was a ring. She recognized it from the portrait in the hall.
“Bridget’s engagement ring.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Abigail’s gone.” Nate’s boots disappeared through the gap in the wall ahead of her. His words dropped into the hidden stairwell like a heavy weight.
“What?” Sara took the last few steps two at a time, ducked through the hole and out into the hallway. It was empty. “Nate? Where are you? What do you mean Abi’s gone?”
He stepped out from around the corner, brandishing a note. “I just found this.” Oscar, the kitten, wriggled in his other arm, but Nate held him close. After having spent so much effort to find and rescue the kitten, neither of them wanted to risk letting him go again just yet.
Sara took the note. “Found Abigail here alone. Am taking her with me. Moana.”
“This is typical.” Nate’s jaw was tight. “Abigail must have told her we were just downstairs. Why would she take her out of the house without telling us?”
Sara scowled at the note. “It’s me. She doesn’t like me.”
“Well that’s no excuse. I’m Abigail’s father. I’m the one who makes the decisions about what’s best for her. Not her aunt.”
“It sounds like she was just worried about her. I’m sure they’re okay.” Sara was vaguely surprised to find herself standing up for Moana.
“That’s not the point,” Nate said. “She wasn’t in any danger and she should have talked to me before taking her away. Now I have to figure out where they’ve gone.”
Sara thought about where she’d found Abigail and her aunt earlier that day. “I think I may have an idea. How about I check there and you check the house in case she just took her home?”
Nate nodded. “Thanks. Sorry about this. I’ll call you and let you know if they’re there.”
As soon as he was gone, Sara pulled on her shoes and hurried outside and into the bush. This time there was no glowing light to guide her, but she knew the way to the circular pond now. As she pushed her way through the ferns and branches, she questioned why she was headed there again. Surely Moana wouldn’t return to the same place so soon?
But then, Sara had no real idea what the woman had been doing there in the first place. She’d already practically kidnapped the girl and taken her there once today. The knowledge that it had been done without Nate’s permission ate at Sara. Somehow it hadn’t felt right to tell Nate what she’d seen and yet, now that she was hurrying to the pond again, there was a heaviness in her stomach that seemed like guilt.
Why hadn’t she told him? The question rang in her ears with every step.
The answer was fear.
Nate had been so nice to her, so accepting of her situation and her past. She liked him – a lot – and she felt that he liked her. He’d even said so as they’d explored the hidden staircase. To mention what she’d seen opened all sorts of doors. Nate had accepted her abusive relationship and lost baby, but would he accept her talking about ghosts and magic and accusing his sister-in-law of chanting spells in the bush with his daughter?
Wasn’t that the kind of thing that sent decent men running? At best, he would think she was crazy. At worst... did small towns still gather up mobs with pitchforks these days?
She reached the clearing and felt a wash of relief go through her. There was no sign of Moana and Abigail. Most likely, the woman had simply taken the girl home.
Sara walked closer, peering at the water. There was no sign of what had made it glow earlier in the day, the only living creature other than herself was one of the neighbourhood cats resting on one of the stones at the edge of the water. She’d hoped perhaps some kind of natural algae could explain what she’d seen while Moana was chanting, but no. There was something supernatural at work here and something told her it was more than just Bridget’s ghost.
Her hand in her pocket fingered the engagement ring she’d found in the basement.
The water in the pool rippled and the tree in its centre shifted as though in the wind. It was almost as though the branches were reaching out to her. As she watched, she felt something inside her stir, as if some creature in her stomach had come to life. The perfume of flowers wafted over her, but there were none nearby that she could see. The water shimmered in the light like stars captured beneath the water from another world.
“Closer,” a man’s deep voice said inside her head. “Come closer and help us.”
His voice was like a hook in her chest and she took a step forward before she even thought about what she was doing.
The cat on the rock looked up suddenly and hissed.
Sara shook her head and the spell was broken. She backed away, heart pounding, and hurried back to the house.
Chapter Twenty
Her allergies were playing up by the time she reached the house again. Another couple of stray cats were on the po
rch. She sneezed as she passed them, her hands slapping her thighs with the violence of it.
The lump in her pocket was Bridget’s engagement ring.
She took out the ring and held it up to the sunlight. The stone sparkled, almost as if it created its own light. It really was beautiful. What had it been doing in the basement all this time? Who had left it there and why?
There were just too many questions and not enough answers.
She stepped across the threshold and her gaze caught on a small pink backpack tucked up against the hall table.
“Abi? Are you here?”
There was no response. The little girl must have left it behind when Moana had taken her from the house. A quick check of her cell-phone revealed a text from Nate saying he’d found Abigail and Moana at his house and not to worry.
Sara felt a weight lift from her. At least they hadn’t gone far. Whatever power struggle Nate and Moana had, it wasn’t her business. They had to figure out how to look after Abigail between them.
Nevertheless, Sara couldn’t help the niggle of concern that felt like a cold worm in her throat. She’d started to care for Abigail. She’d seen enough tug-of-war parenting at the child care facility to know how confusing it could be for a child.
She stared at the backpack for a long moment. Perhaps she should take it over to Nate and Abigail’s house and just make sure everything was all right.
She slipped Bridget’s ring onto her finger, for safe keeping, and bent down to pick up the backpack.
A rushing sound, like a river pouring through a dark cave, echoed through her mind. The world fell away and Sara spiralled into a swirl of blinding light, losing herself as her senses were overwhelmed. She screamed and fought it, but for a long moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the light and the noise subsided.
The hallway was gone. The light shrank down to a spark of brightness, a gemstone on a woman’s hand. Bridget’s hand.
They stood in a wide, stone room, empty of furniture. Bridget was surrounded by a circle of Maori women, each with a tattooed moko on her chin. As the glowing ring on Bridget’s finger pulsed with light, the women began to sing.
Bridget’s face was a grimace of concentration. From the walls and floor, long stone spikes lanced out, each one sprouting leaves as it went, creating a lattice of vines throughout the room. Showers of sparks sprayed out wherever the vines connected.
One of the Maori women screamed as sparks danced over her skin and she fell to the ground. The others closed ranks, singing their chant louder and stronger than before.
As their voices blended in crescendo, Bridget opened her mouth to speak.
Sara hit the floor, pain jolting through her shoulder in a shocking burst.
The vision was gone. She was back in the hallway, her face resting against Abigail’s little pink backpack.
Sara pushed herself up from the floor, her legs wobbly and her head spinning.
Her stomach was tight with fear, adrenaline rushing through her veins. “Bridget?” she called.
But the ghost gave no response.
“Damn it, Bridget. What are you? What’s happening to me?” Whatever supernatural things were happening in the house and at the pond in the bush, were affecting her as well. The magic of this place was overwhelming and it was beginning to frighten her.
She took a deep breath, picked up the pink backpack, and hurried out the door.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nate’s stomach felt as though he’d swallowed a live wire as he bounded up the steps to his front door. The keys felt like tiny sharp knives in his fingers as he struggled to get the right one in the lock. At last, the door opened and he stepped inside.
“Abi? You here?”
Moana and his daughter sat at the dining table, colouring in. Abi looked up and smiled at the kitten in his arms.
“Yay! You found him!” She scrambled down and took the small cat. Nate quickly shut the door so the creature wouldn’t escape again.
“Of course she’s here,” Moana said blandly. “Where else would I take her? Or has that O’Neill woman been filling your head with nonsense?”
Nate felt his jaw twitch with annoyance, but the surge of relief that soothed his chest took the main part of his focus. It was foolish to have thought any harm would come to Abigail while she was with her aunt, but ever since Emma’s death, it was hard to let go of certain fears. He hated not knowing where his daughter was. Hated the feeling of helplessness that came from having his power as a parent taken away.
He took a deep breath. “I’m going to make a cup of tea.” He put the jug on and pulled out his phone to text Sara so she wouldn’t worry. “Abi, Hon, why don’t you take Oscar to your room for a while.”
She looked at him, then at her aunt. Her eyes narrowed slightly but she picked up the kitten and walked slowly to the door. Nate sighed. The older Abi got, the harder it was to hide the friction in the family from her.
Moana stared at him, her jaw lifted.
Nate folded his arms and stared back. “What the hell were you thinking, taking my daughter without asking?”
“What was I thinking? What were you thinking? I found her alone in a dangerously unstable house. Anything could have happened to her.”
The jug boiled and he poured hot water into the cup. “She was not alone. Sara and I were downstairs. Aside from the fact that I doubt you had permission to be inside the house at all, if you’d left Abi alone, she’d have stayed where she was safe, just as I’d told her. You can’t make decisions about her without consulting me. You’re not her parent. I am.”
“Well you could have fooled me about that when Emma died.” Moana’s voice was soft and dark. “Or have you forgotten the weeks on end that I was the one who fed and washed and dressed your daughter? That I would walk in here and find you sitting in a corner with dirty dishes all around you, stained clothes, and no interest in the world at all? Let alone your daughter’s wellbeing.”
“I always cared about my daughter’s wellbeing,” Nate snapped. “Always. But I had just lost my wife and I had a hard time dealing with it. I know that. I’m grateful for your help back then. But damn it, Moana, that was years ago! You have to let it go! I know how to raise my daughter now.”
She looked at him and raised her eyebrow. “Do you?”
Doubt stabbed at his chest. He knew so little about girls. “Maybe not. Maybe I’m making some mistakes. But I’m doing the best I can and they’re my mistakes to make, not yours. For me to be the best parent I can be, I need to do it my way and you need to stop undermining me. Let me do it.”
She was silent for a while. Then she stood up, walked across and made herself a cup of tea as well, pouring milk into his cup and pushing it towards him. “Perhaps. But there are some things I still need to help you with. For Abigail’s sake.”
“Like what?”
“The traditions of our people,” she said. “And female issues, when she’s older.”
Nate nodded. He felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. “Sure. An aunt would be great for that. But talk to me about it first, okay?” He lifted the cup of tea to his mouth.
Moana pursed her lips. “I will try,” she said. “But you shouldn’t be leaving her with that woman. Abi needs a firm hand and you’re letting her run wild. She can’t learn what she needs to with her.”
The tension in his shoulders returned, muscles twisting into painful knots. “With Sara, you mean? Why on earth not? She’s probably the best person to babysit. She’s an early childhood education teacher for God’s sake.”
“That’s not all she is.”
Nate frowned and set the cup down. “What do you mean by that?”
Moana shook her head. “She’s an O’Neill. That’s all you need to know. They can’t be trusted.”
“Why?”
“They just can’t.”
He sighed. “You know, Moana, for someone who is so involved in her iwi and biculturalism, I thought you’d be more accepting than th
at. Hating someone just for their family is basically the same as racism. You’ve never really given her a chance.”
She looked away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then by all means, explain it.”
“You’re a newcomer to this town as well. You don’t know the history of this place. Of that house.”
“I thought nobody had lived there for a couple of generations now. Whatever happened, you can’t blame Sara for it.”
Moana traced the rim of her cup with a finger. “What did she say about me?”
Nate sighed. “Nothing. I mean, I don’t think she particularly likes you, but that’s because you’re trying to have her house torn down.”
“So she said nothing about why she has come back here now? About what her family did when they settled in our land?”
Nate shook his head. “No. Why would she? What are you even on about? Why does it matter what happened a hundred years ago?”
Moana snorted. “Emma never spoke to you about this at all, did she? Damn her for being such a cagey bitch.”
“Excuse me?” Nate felt his fingers curl into fists. “That’s your dead sister you’re talking about. My dead wife.”
Moana rolled her eyes. “Oh please. You think I didn’t know her at least as well as you did? Do you think it was a coincidence that she wanted you to live here, right next to the O’Neill house all these years? That she always talked you out of moving back to the city? Did you honestly never wonder where she went on her big long bush walks alone?”
“What are you talking about?” A worm of dread bit into his stomach. Emma had been the one to choose this house. She’d always wanted to stay in her home town. He’d always thought it was cute. That it was a sign of feeling like she belonged to this town and this land. That home meant something special to her and that her position in the iwi was important. She’d said it was a good place to raise their children and so he’d stayed even after she’d died. But what if there was more? “What do you mean?”