Mary, Will I Die?

by Shawn Sarles

  To my parents, Linda and Richard, who were my first and biggest fans

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  She knew she should have been scared. She should have been curled up in a ball, her hands thrown over her head for protection, cowering in a basement, sheltering in place. That was where everyone else would be right now. But for what?

  How many times had the sky turned black and the winds blown hard? How often had the clouds steepled into angry, furrowed masses threatening to unleash Armageddon? And yet, the sun always came out fifteen minutes later. The danger never materialized. Never did any damage.

  A siren started wailing outside. It cut through the howling wind that rattled every window in the house.

  “We should go back downstairs,” a voice whimpered from behind Elena.

  “Don’t be such a baby,” Elena snapped at Grace, her best friend, though sometimes she wondered how much longer she’d be able to put up with the girl. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

  “I don’t know,” another girl spoke up. “It sounds pretty bad out there.”

  “I think Steph’s right,” a boy added, his glasses sliding down his nose so that he had to keep pushing them back up over and over again.

  “Fine. Go back to your boring lives.”

  Elena was so over them. All three of them.

  Grace. Steph. And Calvin.

  Her carpool buddies, though she was only actually friends with Grace. They were all in the same fourth-grade class, and her mom had picked them up early today because of the storm warning.

  “But if you want to see something cool and prove that you’re not a scaredy-cat, then follow me.”

  At first no one responded to Elena’s challenge, but then Grace took the bait, like Elena knew she would.

  “Cool like what?” she asked, her voice a nervous whisper.

  “You’re about to find out.”

  Elena’s mouth split into a wicked grin and she started down the hallway, glancing over her shoulder, satisfied when Grace’s surrender dominoed into Steph’s and Calvin’s. All three were following her now, marching up to the closed door in single file.

  “What’s in there?” Grace squeaked.

  “A ghost.”

  Elena delighted in the shiver that shook Grace, the shocked O rounding the girl’s lips. Then, before anyone could recover, she reached up and twisted the handle, swinging the door open and revealing the black cavern of a room. She slipped inside and waited for them to join her.

  Lightning flickered beyond the curtained windows, the flash spotlighting the room in black and white. It pulsed again, and this time someone yelped as a shrouded figure lunged out of the shadows. Grace threw herself into Elena as she dove for the door. Before she could bolt, though, Elena reached over and pulled the string on an old lamp. Its golden glow filled the room and revealed the ghostly figure for what it was—a piece of furniture, a sheet thrown over it to keep off the dust.

  “It’s only a bedroom,” Steph commented, and a frown wrinkled her forehead.

  “It’s not,” Elena said.

  The wind howled against the windows as Elena paused, relishing what would come next.

  “It’s my grandmother’s room. At least—it was.”

  An eerie calm settled around them, like they’d suddenly been sucked into the eye of a tornado. Elena could almost feel her ears pop as the air pressure shifted and grew brittle.

  “When did she die?” Calvin asked, his voice hushed.

  “A few months ago.” Elena said.

  “I’m sorry,” Steph mumbled.

  “Don’t be,” Elena replied before she could check herself. Before she realized how heartless it sounded. “I mean, she was pretty old and out of it at the end.”

  That was true, at least. In those last few weeks of her life, Elena’s grandmother had spiraled into a ghoul. Her fingers had narrowed into hooked talons. Her hair stuck straight out from her head in patchy white wisps. Nonsense had rattled from her mouth night and day, a feverish rant, her native German only broken up here and there by a random English word. But even those Elena could hardly understand.

  Her mom had tried to explain it to her. Something called dementia. It stole her grandmother’s memories. Twisted them. Made her see things that weren’t there. Made her rant at the very air in front of her face. Invisible enemies hiding in the shadows.

  “And all this … is hers?” Grace asked, her question quiet. Reverent. Elena had talked about the woman with Grace, but they’d never actually met. And Elena hadn’t told her when her grandmother had passed. She hadn’t even invited her to the funeral.

  “It was,” Elena replied. Her grandmother had moved in near the end, bringing with her a few of her most prized possessions. Which reminded Elena …

  Before anyone could say another word, she flounced across the room and grabbed the edge of the hanging sheet, tugging on the fabric and letting it unfurl. The shroud flowed to the floor and pooled around the wooden legs of the imposing relic, revealing the bogeyman for what it was—a mirror.

  “That looks really old,” Calvin marveled, the first to find his voice.

  “And expensive,” Steph piped up, moving in to get a closer look. “Are those real?”

  Tentatively, the girl reached forward but stopped, her finger hovering less than an inch above one of the pearl-like orbs inset all the way around the mirror’s flawless glass.

  “I don’t know,” Elena replied. “It’s been in my grandmother’s family for generations or something.”

  “Are these hers, too?” Grace asked, her pipsqueak voice interrupting Elena, who spun around and saw the girl fingering the knickknacks on top of the dresser. The antique silver rings and necklaces that could use polishing. A photo album and some old books.

  “Yeah. It was all hers.”

  “Cool.” The word was barely audible as Grace continued to sift through it all. Elena tapped her foot in the middle of the room, crossing her arms as she turned and saw Calvin still mesmerized by the mirror, his nose an inch from the glass.

  This wasn’t much fun anymore. Not for her. They were supposed to be shocked and scared. They might as well have stayed downstairs.

  But then, as Elena was about to suggest that they wrap things up, she caught a movement in the mirror. Her own annoyed face reflected behind Calvin’s. But there was a twinkle in her eye. A smirk on her lips. And suddenly, an idea struck her.

  “Let’s play a game,” Elena said, her voice coaxing everyone to listen. “It’s called Bloody Mary.”

  The light in the room dimmed and the wind picked up outside, howling against the side of the house, reminding everyone that there was a storm brewing. Elena
pushed Calvin aside and stepped in front of the mirror.

  “It’s simple, as long as you don’t scare easy.”

  And Elena went on to explain the rules.

  “All you have to do is stare into the mirror. Right at your reflection. And then you say Bloody Mary thirteen times.”

  She didn’t know where this had come from. It was almost like a spirit was standing right behind her, whispering the directions into her ear for her to repeat. But it sounded good. It sounded scary.

  “What happens then?” Steph asked, clearly unimpressed by the game.

  “Well, you wait.” Elena strung it out to buy some time, examining her own reflection as if her mirror version might have the answer. “And then Bloody Mary shows you your soulmate’s face.”

  Elena liked that. Especially since she’d come up with it on the spot. But it needed more. Something extra. Something twisted.

  “Or,” Elena began, “you’ll see Bloody Mary’s horrible face. A sign that you’re going to die young. Maybe even tonight.”

  And a clap of thunder crashed overhead, adding that perfect exclamation point to her words.

  “Here, I’ll go first.”

  Before anyone could protest or call her silly, Elena stepped right up to the mirror, looked her reflection dead in the eye, and started speaking.

  “Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.”

  The name rolled off her tongue like some kind of incantation. And everyone in the room was under its spell, sucking in their breaths as they waited to see what would happen. Even the storm outside seemed to be listening.

  “Bloody Mary.”

  As she spoke the name for the thirteenth time, Elena rose up on her tiptoes, leaning closer to the mirror so that her nose almost grazed the glass. Her gaze pierced through her reflection, looking for something. Anything. Even she had gotten swept up in her game. Even she believed that Bloody Mary might reveal something to her.

  With a blinding flash and a violent crack, the storm broke back into the room. Elena jumped and Grace let out a whimper. Then something above them snapped and the room was suddenly plunged into complete darkness.

  Elena could hear the others panicking around her—Grace’s soft keening, Steph’s sharp gasp, Calvin’s pitchy yelp—but none of that mattered.

  Because she’d seen something. She swore it. There, in that split second before the lights had gone out, there’d been a face. A boy from her class. One she had a crush on. Henry. Her soulmate.

  “Did you see that?” Elena spun around, fishing her phone out of her pocket so that she could use the flashlight app. “There was a face in the mirror.”

  But no one else seemed to believe her.

  “You must have missed it when the lights went out.” Elena sounded disappointed. But she wasn’t defeated. “Here. One of you go.”

  “I think we should head downstairs,” Steph replied. “Your mom will probably be looking for us. And I don’t want to get in trouble.”

  Elena frowned. But then Grace stepped up.

  “I’ll go.”

  Her hand dipped nervously into one of the pockets of her skirt, but she took her place in front of the mirror. She peered into it, using Elena’s phone to see, and spoke the name just like the other girl had, pausing after the thirteenth time and holding her breath.

  “Did you see anything?” Elena asked after only a couple of seconds. Grace’s cheeks had turned bright red. But she only shook her head as she shuffled back, doing her best not to make eye contact with anyone.

  “Calvin, give it a try.”

  And Elena pushed the boy in front of her, holding the light up again as she coaxed him into repeating the name. As it crossed Calvin’s lips for the last time, he suddenly froze, the color draining completely from his face.

  “Who’d you see?” Elena asked. Because once again she hadn’t spotted anything in the mirror.

  “No one,” Calvin stuttered. “There wasn’t anything there.”

  “Can we go now?” Steph asked from the door. She was pulling at her curly hair.

  “Fine,” Elena relented. “But first you have to take your turn. Don’t you want to see who your true love is?”

  Steph rolled her eyes, but Elena stood firm. She wasn’t going to move until they’d all gone. This time she wasn’t even going to blink. She would make sure she didn’t miss whoever’s face appeared.

  Steph dragged her feet across the room and gave Elena another annoyed look before facing the mirror and half-heartedly rattling off the thirteen Bloody Marys.

  But then, something in her eyes changed. Her shoulders tensed, and the annoyed scowl slid from her face, shock replacing it. And maybe fear. However, before Elena could ask Steph what she’d seen, her mother’s voice wailed through the house, vaulting up the stairs, hunting them down.

  The kids exchanged a quick glance and bolted out of the room. Elena was last, and as she paused to shut the door, she glanced one last time at the mirror, feeling it calling to her. She squinted, and she thought she saw something glimmer in the glass. A shadow dancing in the reflection, swaying gently back and forth. She could have sworn she heard a low purr. A triumphant giggle. But then her mother shouted again and Elena forgot the vision. She slammed the door and raced down the stairs. When she caught up to everyone else, her mother wore a panicked look. But she couldn’t seem to find the words to explain her dismay.

  “Mom, what’s wrong?” Elena asked, her heart suddenly racing, thumping in her ears. “Is it Dad? Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine.”

  Elena relaxed. For a second.

  “But Grace—” Elena’s mom turned to the girl, crouching in front of her. “Now, listen, sweetie, everything’s going to be okay. But your mom—she’s been in a car accident. She got hurt pretty bad.”

  Grace didn’t move, her round eyes suddenly dead. Her hands fell to her sides, slapping against her legs. Steph’s mouth dropped open and Calvin collapsed in on himself, biting his lip as he stared at the ground, clearly shaken.

  “But they got her to the hospital,” Elena’s mom rushed to reassure the girl. “And your dad’s on his way to pick you up now. She’s going to be okay. You’ll see. You just have to have faith.”

  Faith won’t help her now.

  Elena startled as the thought popped into her head. She looked over her shoulder as if she’d see someone whispering into her ear. But there was no one there.

  As Grace started to weep softly and the winds continued to blow outside, Elena couldn’t help thinking back to that face she’d seen in the mirror.

  To Henry.

  And she couldn’t help wondering if he really was her soulmate.

  The doors creaked shut behind her, groaning like the Cryptkeeper’s coffin as Grace stepped off the school bus. She watched the other kids scatter in front of her, running to meet their friends, whooping and hollering like they hadn’t seen one another the day before. Like they hadn’t group-chatted all night long. Grace’s hand fluttered to the necklace hanging around her neck, but she fought off the urge, pulling her backpack tight against her shoulders instead.

  Freshman year of high school was supposed to be hard. She knew that. Everything was different. Her classmates and teachers. The building. All the electives and extracurriculars. There was a whole new set of rules for getting by. For just surviving. But she’d never imagined it would be this lonely.

  Grace buried her chin in her chest and started walking, skirting between groups, trying her best to stay invisible but at the same time—oddly—wanting to be seen. She made it to the entrance but stopped short as her reflection caught her off guard. There, in the depths of the glass doors, her big eyes stared back at her, a message primed on the tip of her mirror tongue.

  You’ll never be pretty enough.

  And she wouldn’t. Not with her round face. Not with the limp brown bangs hanging across her forehead. Not with her pudgy cheeks and shapeless body. She took a step back so she could see it all, running her palms over her rumple
d Mistress of the Dark T-shirt, smoothing out Elvira’s bouffanted head and bright red lipstick. But not even the Mistress could take away the sting, the ugly feeling of being ugly.

  This time Grace couldn’t fight it. Her hand flew to her neck and snagged on the thin silver chain. She fished out the locket and stared at it, the charm shining in the morning light. She rubbed her fingers against the smooth metal and then opened it.

  A woman looked back at her from the miniature black-and-white photograph, sitting with her head tilted toward the camera, dark hair swooping into a neat updo, skin flawless, her cheeks shadowed by good bone structure.

  This was beauty. And it was copied there in the tiny mirror opposite the photo. If Grace squinted, she could almost imagine it was her own reflection. Her own features, passed down from generation to generation.

  But who was she kidding? She’d never look like that. Never be so thin and elegant. Never be pretty.

  Grace snapped the locket shut and tucked it back underneath her shirt. Then she dipped her head down, making sure to avoid her reflection this time as she pulled open the school door and walked inside.

  The halls bustled around her, charged with their usual rhythm and flow, completely oblivious to her. But there was something different in the air this morning. A crispness that Grace couldn’t pinpoint. Then she spotted the flyers tacked up everywhere, the orange papers smoldering along the walls. And she remembered why she had broken out her Elvira T-shirt. It was October first.

  She plucked a flyer off the wall and made her way to her locker, walking absently as she read through the info.

  The Harvest Halloween Carnival.

  The high school sponsored the festival every fall. Students put together booths to raise money for their athletic teams and after-school clubs and Winter Formal. It was open to the whole town, so Grace had gone many times with her dad, every year since her mother—

  Her breath caught in her throat and a pain lanced into her chest. She pressed the locket underneath her shirt, and its presence grounded her. Kept those lonely thoughts away. For now.

  She looked back at the flyer and memorized the dates. The carnival always took place the week before Halloween. And while she’d been several times, she’d never gotten to go on opening night, when the carnival was reserved for the high school students only, letting them kick things off with a costumed blowout, minimal adult supervision. This was the first year she’d get to go, and she couldn’t wait.