Mary, Will I Die?

by Shawn Sarles

  This time, her grandmother showed her. She pointed out the tiny slit hidden in the back cover. A secret compartment that only they knew about.

  Elena stared at the book in front of her, the memory flickering out as suddenly as it had come on. Her finger trembled as she slid it along the top of the back cover, her nail snagging on the tiny slit, invisible to the eye. She dipped into the secret compartment, pulling out the same bookmark from her memory and an envelope with her name written on the front.

  She swallowed as she took in her grandmother’s sweeping scrawl, afraid of what the letter might hold. But this was what she’d come looking for—a potential explanation. Hands unsteady, Elena broke the envelope’s seal and pulled out the letter. She had to stop several times as she read, puzzled but also scared by the words within.

  Dearest Elena,

  I fear that I might not make it to your sixteenth birthday. And for that, I am sorry. At this point, I imagine you’ve begun to hear her. You’re still too young to pass this burden to, but I’ve felt her at my back the last few months, nipping at my heels. She’s slept for so many decades, gathering strength, and I’m afraid that I won’t be able to keep her at bay for much longer. I’m trying, but if you’re reading this, then I failed.

  There’s a secret that the women of our family have passed down for generations. A task that you must take up when I am gone. Not all fairy tales are make-believe. Remember the stories I’ve told you. I hope they have prepared you for what’s to come.

  The mirror should have been passed to you in my will. Find it. Watch over it. Keep it safe. She’s trapped inside it, but that doesn’t mean she’s powerless. She still has her charms and tricks. Do your best to resist them. Don’t fall for her lies. Keep her locked away.

  And if she does get out, you must put her back. The mirror holds the key. Use it. The demon will want revenge for what we’ve done, and I don’t want you to pay that awful price.

  Stay safe. Stay vigilant. And know that I love you.

  Her grandmother’s signature took up the last lines of the letter, a flourish of ink that matched the body’s frenzied, cursive scrawl, as if her grandmother had been racing the clock to finish. Elena reread the note, looking for more details but not finding them.

  More confused than ever, she got to her feet and peered across the room, fixing her eyes on the covered mirror. She took a step forward. And then another. She had to urge her legs to move each time. When she got to the mirror she stood there for a few seconds, taking in deep breaths. Then she reached out and tugged the sheet to the side.

  The mirror stared back at her, its face unchanged. Still ruined. The gash zigzagged across the glass like a lightning bolt. And the gaping crater in the middle was all the proof that Elena needed.

  With a sinking feeling, she realized that she’d already fallen for the demon’s tricks that her grandmother’s note had referenced. It had already escaped. And now she had to figure out how to put it back. Or else.

  The mirror was the key.

  It was what her grandmother had written. But how?

  Against her better judgment, Elena leaned forward, practically pressing her nose up against the broken glass. She ran her fingers over the inset pearls. Felt the grooves of the script running around the frame.

  The script.

  She squinted and tried to make out the words carved into the old wood. It wasn’t in any language she recognized, but she still tried sounding out the letters, mouthing them the best she could.

  She’d gotten a quarter of the way around the mirror when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She ignored it, continuing with the script. But her phone buzzed again and then a third time, insisting she answer.

  She pulled it out and saw that a string of messages had come in from her anonymous admirer. Their texts had slowed down over the past week, and Elena had honestly begun to lose interest. What did she need with a digital boyfriend? Especially when she still didn’t know who he was. She moved to put her phone back in her pocket, but it shook again as another message came through.

  And then a couple of seconds later, another buzz.

  That got Elena’s attention. He wanted to meet her. In person. Finally. Tomorrow night.

  It almost made her forget about her grandmother’s note.

  She hovered there for a moment, glancing between her phone and the mirror. She knew she needed to figure this out first, so she leaned in close again to finish reading the filigreed script.

  But as she concentrated, a fog seeped into her brain. Cold fingers crept across her chest and moved up around her neck. Her head grew light, her breathing shallowed, her eyes closed halfway as she pressed to finish. But the words sounded all wrong coming out of her mouth, and she felt so stupid.

  This was useless. What was she even doing? She didn’t know anything about demons or spells. She had no idea how she was going to lock this thing back in the mirror.

  But you do know how to flirt with boys.

  She did.

  And don’t you deserve to have a little fun?

  Turning back to her phone, Elena hesitated for a moment and then typed out a reply. As she waited for an answer, she bent down and picked up the sheet, tossing it over the mirror, making sure it was fully covered.

  She hadn’t forgotten about the demon, but it could wait one more day. She could figure this out after the carnival.

  As another message pinged into her phone, Elena turned her back on the mirror. Warm air filled her lungs again as she walked out of the room, her mind working on another problem—trying to figure out what killer costume she should wear when she finally met her anonymous admirer.

  Where was he?

  Grace stood just inside the entrance to the Harvest Halloween Carnival, hands worrying away in their long white gloves. She rose to her tiptoes and tried to see through the crowd.

  He must have had second thoughts. It shouldn’t have taken this long. He must have abandoned her when he’d gone to buy the tickets. It was the story of her life. And after everything had gone so well earlier that night with her dad. Calvin had showed up on time—fifteen minutes early, even—and played nice all evening. He’d smiled and posed for pictures, given all the right answers and asked a few questions of his own. He’d put on the costume Grace had picked out without a single complaint. And he’d taken the face paint and worked his magic on them both. They looked ten times better now. They were sure to win the couples contest.

  So why had he decided to bail now?

  She’d scared him off. She’d come on too strong. She should have known it was too good to be true. The matching costumes. She shouldn’t have made them bride and groom. He must have read into it.

  Or maybe he was mad at her for dragging him here. For wasting precious time. They should be researching how to stop the curse. Grace should be trying to save him. Every second mattered.

  But hadn’t Calvin insisted they take a break? Hadn’t he made her put down the grimoire that had finally arrived that morning? He’d wanted a distraction. He’d wanted things to feel normal for once.

  And then, right as Grace’s panic grew unbearable, he appeared, his green head sticking out from everyone else as he lumbered in his square-toed shoes, his knees stiff and his arms held out straight in front of him for full effect.

  “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” Calvin said as he approached. “That line took forever. But I got them.”

  A string of red tickets fluttered from his hand and Grace couldn’t keep herself from hopping up and down in excitement, her worries disappearing like a banished poltergeist.

  “Where to first?”

  “Well, there’s the Headless Horseman,” Grace said as she reached up and snagged a stream of tickets. She pointed out the Tilt-A-Whirl that was painted black and orange with fiery pumpkins flying across it and a mounted, decapitated Hessian in pursuit.

  “And then the helter skelter.”

  They walked past the Beetlejuice-colored turret that was poking out
of the ground, a pair of riders screaming as they careened down the spiral slide attached to the structure’s walls. Out of the corner of her eye, Grace noticed Calvin’s cheeks turning even greener than his face paint, and she could have kicked herself. These rides must all look like death traps to him.

  “But we can skip those.” Grace quickly changed course. “There’s plenty of other things I want to do. Like skele-dogs!”

  She pulled him over to the nearest food stall and pointed out the corn dogs. There was a ketchup skull piped on the outside of each. She held up two fingers and the concessions worker handed them to her.

  “I don’t know why, but it just tastes better at the carnival.” She took a bite and hoped she hadn’t gotten ketchup all over her chin, though the bloody effect might add something to her costume.

  “So what made you pick these outfits?” Calvin asked after three bites, finishing off his skele-dog in record time.

  Grace took a few moments to chew, hoping she wouldn’t say the wrong thing. But he already knew she was a monster movie nerd, didn’t he? She swallowed and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

  “I wanted to do something classic. And there aren’t that many female characters in the monster movie universe. So Frankenstein’s monster and his bride were kind of a perfect fit. Do you like it?”

  She winced, hoping he would, but also knowing that he’d tell her he did even if he didn’t.

  “They’re awesome!” Calvin cheered, and she could tell he wasn’t lying. “I don’t think I’ve ever looked better.”

  “You have,” Grace assured him, giggling. “And your paint job took it to the next level.”

  She batted her lashes and showed off her face. He’d managed to make her look like the most glamorous reanimated corpse ever. Sunken eyes and hollow cheekbones. But like a model for some avant-garde photo shoot. It was kind of incredible what he could do.

  “We’re going to kill it in the couples costume contest,” Grace said. “That is, if you still want to enter.”

  “Of course we’re entering,” Calvin exclaimed. “And we’re gonna win.”

  Grace’s heart fluttered. Why did she keep underestimating him? And herself? She had to quit that.

  Careful. The closer you get, the more it will hurt when he’s gone.

  Grace gulped at the thought. Remembering that Calvin only had so much time left.

  “Should we hit a ride before my shift?” Calvin asked. “I’ve got about thirty minutes before I’m scheduled to take over the booth.”

  Calvin had taken Grace’s advice and signed up with the art club. He’d already drawn several monster portraits that would be auctioned off throughout the week, so he didn’t have to worry about what visions might come to him in the moment.

  “Are you worried at all? That something might happen?”

  Grace hated that she had to ask. But she knew that his visions could come on at any time. And she knew how bad it got when they took over.

  “I’ll be fine,” Calvin assured her.

  But that didn’t stop Grace’s anxiety.

  “We should be figuring out how to break this curse,” Grace said, feeling silly now for agreeing to come to the carnival in the first place. “We should be trying to save you. We don’t have time to waste. Look, I brought the grimoire with me.”

  She’d showed him the spell book at her house, but he’d made her promise not to bring it. Promise to keep the night normal. No talk of demons. But she just knew that she’d find the secret in the grimoire’s pages. She’d come across a lost language or a sealing ritual or something. The solution.

  “We can look at it later,” Calvin said softly, his hand wrapping around Grace’s wrist, his grip gentle yet firm.

  “But what if there isn’t a later?” Grace blurted out, her worry racing ahead of her.

  “It can wait,” Calvin said, and his lips settled into a heartbreaking frown, leaving Grace speechless.

  “Look, I have time for one ride before my shift,” Calvin explained. “So let’s go on a ride. Just pick something relatively safe.”

  Grace grew flustered. She didn’t agree with Calvin, but this was what he wanted. To be normal for at least a few minutes. And she could look through the book while he worked his shift. Then she might have something concrete to show him after he finished.

  “We can try Bats in the Belfry,” Grace suggested.

  And she took his hand and led him through the carnival, weaving between stalls and avoiding the largest clusters of people. They passed witches and ghosts and princes and princesses. Vampires and pirates. Everything under the moon, both costumed-out and costumed-lazy.

  “It’s the spinning cups,” Calvin realized as they came up to the ride.

  “Think you can handle that?”

  Calvin nodded, letting Grace tug him into the relatively short line.

  Again, the ride was Halloweened out, each cup painted black, with wings and white fangs thrown on for effect. Even so, it would have had a hard time scaring a third grader. Grace knew it had to be the safest ride at the whole carnival, and she patted herself on the back for thinking of it. After a couple of minutes of waiting, they handed over their tickets and climbed into one of the bats by themselves.

  As the ride started up, Grace twisted the turntable in the center of their car and the world started spinning around them. Slowly, at first. But then they gathered speed, the lights of the carnival streaking to a blur around them, the wind whipping them in the face as they twirled, sliding across the seats, colliding into each other.

  With each bump, a thrill ran through Grace. She could hear Calvin laughing next to her, his face bright, and she realized she’d never seen him like this. So free. So happy. And she wanted to open her mouth to tell him what she suspected he already knew. That she liked him. That she still liked him. That she liked him so much it hurt. That worrying about him kept her up at night.

  She had to tell him. Tonight. She couldn’t wait any longer.

  But as the ride slowed and the world stilled around them, Grace’s courage abandoned her. The words stuck in the back of her throat.

  “I better head over,” Calvin said, his arm stretched out to help her up.

  Grace blinked and tried to shake herself out of her stupor. Then she took his hand and climbed from the spinning bat, stumbling as she found her footing back on solid ground.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to abandon you before the big contest,” Calvin went on. “I’ll find you when I’m done and we can head over together.”

  His smile told her that he meant it. And it was exactly why she liked him so much. He just got her. He always knew what to say. He cared. She’d tell him how she felt later. And in the meantime, she had some homework to do with the grimoire.

  Steph couldn’t believe that she was here. Here at the carnival, eating out of a bag of creepy crawlies. Here watching Mary pick through the popcorn kernels in the trail mix to unearth the gummy worms buried deep.

  Here with Mary. The two of them together on what probably wasn’t a date but felt like one nonetheless based on how Steph’s stomach rolled with nerves, how she worried about saying and doing and liking the wrong things. This was her chance, and she was so afraid that she would mess it up.

  “I love all the spooky names they came up with,” Mary said, bringing Steph out of her spiraling thoughts. “It really gets you in the mood, doesn’t it?”

  Steph watched as the girl raised a gummy worm to her mouth and bit it in half, a wicked delight spilling over her face as she chewed and swallowed.

  “The mood?”

  “Halloween,” Mary exclaimed like it was obvious. “Ghosts and goblins. Things that go bump in the night. It’s all so spooky and thrilling.”

  “Oh, right.” Steph nodded, though her recent experience had taught her the opposite. The problem with scary was that usually it came with a reason to be afraid.

  “And I love getting to dress up,” Mary went on. “You get to be whoever you want, even if it�
��s just for a few hours. It’s the only night of the year we all get to play make-believe. We all get to write whatever stories we want to live.”

  Steph looked down at her costume, the athletic shorts and knee pads she’d thrown on. Her hair pulled up into a ponytail. The jersey covering her chest.

  She’d gone as what she already was. A volleyball player. And now she realized how stupid it must look—basic next to Mary’s scaly face, which must have taken her hours to draw on. Her hair was tinged green and wrapped in coils, each with a head sprouting out of the end, pairs of black eyes and hissing tongues probing the air, looking for a victim. A modern-day Medusa.

  “I don’t know,” Steph said, swallowing an M&M. “Isn’t Halloween all about nightmares? I mean, who wants those to come to life?”

  “One person’s nightmare is another person’s adventure.”

  Again, Steph would have disagreed, but she didn’t want to come off as a wimp. So she smiled through the uneasiness bubbling in her stomach and nodded along.

  “Should we hop on a ride?” Mary asked, her focus leaping ahead so easily, making Steph wish she wasn’t so stuck in her head. So afraid of messing things up.

  But a ride was something she could do. Something she liked. The thrill was kind of like what she felt on the volleyball court. Adrenaline pumping through her body, making her strong and confident. Unstoppable. Which was something she could really use right now.

  “That one looks fun.”

  And Steph’s eyes darted ahead to see which ride Mary had picked out.

  “Witches Take Flight.” Steph read off the ride’s name, thankful it wasn’t the Ferris wheel. She wasn’t ready for something like that. Not yet, at least.

  “See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Mary chirped as she hurried Steph along, pulling her into the line. “That kinda name puts you in the Halloween spirit. Way more than calling it the swing ride.”

  “I guess,” Steph admitted.

  And this time the smile that bubbled to her lips was natural. Real.