The Lost Sister

by Megan Kelley Hall

  “In old-fashioned clothing, right? That was our resident ghost, Bridget Bishop. She likes to play around with people who have the gift.”

  “Gift?” Cordelia said awkwardly, looking around the room with the vaulted ceilings and the staircase that seemed to wind its way up into nowhere.

  “The gift of seeing what most people can’t,” the woman said wryly. “Ain’t it a great gift to have?” She shook her head and continued drying glasses and hanging them up on the overhead rack.

  Cordelia was used to people in Salem playing up their “Haunted Happenings,” but there was no sense of playfulness in this woman’s voice, only a slight trembling of fear.

  After receiving the tarot card and the strange dreams she’d been having about Maddie (almost as though they were communicating), Cordelia knew she should return to Hawthorne. But it was only after reading the piece in the Hawthorne Gazette that she realized how important it was for her to return. She knew she’d have a lot of explaining to do, and possibly even be punished for wasting the town’s time and money spent looking for her. But she knew that she could never move forward in her life without correcting her wrongs. How could she blame others for not taking responsibility for their actions when she was just as guilty?

  She sat down at the bar, paying little attention to the early signs of Christmas decorations surrounding her. Holidays meant little to her these days. Just another way of marking the passage of time.

  “Don’t even think of getting served here, young lady,” the surly barmaid chuckled as she washed out some glasses. “I could tell that you were underage the minute you walked in the door.”

  “Just some passion fruit tea, please,” Cordelia said quietly.

  “Passion fruit tea?” the woman laughed, saying it loudly so that the other patrons could roll their eyes along with her. “Does this look like an herbal teahouse to you?”

  Cordelia looked around the beautiful bar and restaurant. She could see the ghosts of the past lingering in corners, hidden from most people’s eyes. They interacting with each other as they had in their past lives, unaware of the real, live people that moved about the historic restaurant.

  “I suppose not,” Cordelia said quietly. “Just something warm, please.”

  The woman’s eyes softened. She noticed that Cordelia was dressed inappropriately for the nor’easter that had come unexpectedly off the coast.

  “How ’bout a hot chocolate…on the house?” the woman offered, winking. Then she cocked her head to the side, looking at Cordelia as if recalling an old friend. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”

  Cordelia allowed her hair to slip down like a veil shielding her face. She’d long stopped dying her hair and the natural red curls were destined to call attention to her. She had just hoped she’d have a little more time of anonymity before people started to recognize her. “I—um—used to come in here a while back with my mom.”

  Just as the bartender started to question Cordelia further, one of the burly men at the bar yelled out, “Holy shit!”

  Everyone’s attention was immediately directed toward the television that hung over the bar. A news anchor was standing in front of what appeared to be a mountain of fire. The words HAWTHORNE, MASSACHUSETTS ran in the bar underneath the reporter.

  “Turn it up,” a booming voice called from the back of the bar.

  “…we’re not exactly sure how or when this five-alarm fire broke out at Ravenswood, but fire crews from four neighboring towns are desperately trying to get it under control, especially due to the close proximity to the town of Hawthorne. Residents of Hawthorne are not being asked to vacate the premises yet, but if the fire isn’t contained soon, they may be encouraged to seek shelter until the fire is under control.”

  The news camera panned up and a huge blaze coming from four of the new buildings, almost as if they were synchronized, filled the screen. The original building seemed unaffected by the raging fire. It seemed to sit quietly in a gentle repose, simply watching the mass destruction surrounding it.

  The news reporter seemed just as shocked when questioned by the anchors. The blond anchor asked, “Have they determined a cause for the fires? Isn’t it strange that the four newer buildings are affected, while the original building of Ravenswood Asylum seems to be largely unaffected?”

  The reporter held his finger in his ear and nodded. “Yes, it’s an unusual coincidence—perhaps too unusual—that the four new buildings, which as you know have been at the center of a large controversial fight among residents of Hawthorne and the Hawthorne Historical Society, are the only buildings affected at this point.” He turned back to look at the raging inferno and pointed at the old building. “As you can see, the original Ravenswood building is not affected at all. There doesn’t appear to be any sign of fire within the main building, which is strange on many levels.”

  The blond anchor perked up. “Why is that?”

  The reporter nodded again, finger still stuck in his ear. “Well, I’m being told that there is no electrical wiring in the new buildings at this point and the only way that this type of fire could have broken out on such a large scale is by some form of arson. And the fact that the main building escaped the fire is a mystery to us all.”

  All of a sudden, a woman came up behind the newsman, incoherently babbling. The woman was familiar, but looked as if she’d aged considerably. This couldn’t be…Cordelia almost jumped out of her chair. Was that her mother? If it was, then she was a shadow of her former self. The woman on the television screen had hollow, lifeless eyes, a gaunt face, and a dazed expression. It was like the Rebecca she had grown up with had been replaced by this changeling of a woman.

  “Yes, I’m now speaking with one of the former residents of Ravenswood—a former patient—she seems to have a theory on what caused the fire,” the reporter said as he tried to keep his professionalism intact as the seemingly crazy woman continued her rant.

  “It’s the curse. This is hallowed land! The spirits, they’re speaking to me and they are saying that they didn’t want this place to be built upon. This is where many women, many souls lost their lives during the witch trials. They are stuck. They—they do not want this to be a hotel. This is their home, their sanctuary, their resting place.”

  Just then a woman came over and gently nudged Rebecca away from the camera, apologizing to the reporter. But Rebecca was determined to communicate with the reporter. She clung to his arm, desperate to tell him something. “Michael, your great-grandmother Ruth wants you to know that this is not her fault. She is at rest here, but she didn’t cause this! It’s the Endicott—”

  The woman quickly pulled Rebecca away from the reporter. He stared openmouthed at the place where Rebecca had stood and there was silence, except for the sounds of the raging inferno behind him and the rush of authorities trying to contain the situation.

  “How could she know that—?” the reporter asked, aghast, when they suddenly cut back to the newsroom.

  The anchors laughed stiffly and then offered, “Well, we can see that this tragic event is affecting everyone in many different ways.”

  The male anchor turned to his counterpart and said, “You know, there are many superstitions tied to Ravenswood, so maybe this will just add to the growing curiosity over the place.”

  The blonde laughed and said, “Well, this is a story better suited for Halloween, don’t you think, Ron? And I suspect that plans for the Endicott Hotel will be put on hold for a while. Just another interesting chapter in the Ravenswood saga.”

  Ron regained his
news anchor voice and said, “News Center Six will continue to keep you up to date on this developing story. When we come back Bill Baxton will be talking about how the Celtics are doing so far this season.”

  “And we’ll have some extra tips for how to keep your cash in your wallet this Christmas season.”

  The two anchors continued their banter and the program cut to a commercial. Total silence had come over the bar.

  “Christ almighty,” Cordelia heard someone behind her say.

  She wasn’t sure what was bothering her most. The sight of Ravenswood being engulfed in flames, or the sight of her mother, looking frail and crazed, sapped of her former beauty and energy. Cordelia shot out of her chair and ran out into the cold winter night. She had to find Rebecca. And she had to make sure—at least for herself—that Rebecca had nothing to do with the fire that was threatening to destroy Ravenswood and everything surrounding it.

  Chapter 19

  SIX OF WANDS

  A conqueror returns. The people walk beside him and celebrate his victory. Leadership and enterprise have been combined. This is success and advancement through labor. This is also a reminder to persevere in spite of what you may have to endure.

  T he fire raged through four of the new towers built at Ravenswood, the first construction sites of the Endicott Hotel. Supernatural occurrences were commonplace at Ravenswood according to local lore. Rumors of unquiet spirits angered by the new construction led people to believe that the fires that no one could trace to a source, in buildings that hadn’t even been wired for electricity yet, were supernatural warnings. Townspeople speculated that the grounds filled with restless spirits wouldn’t accept a building by the Endicott family—a family that had ancestral ties to the witch hangings that had occurred there centuries ago.

  Despite the fact that Finn had been unable to stop the building of the hotel and that the Endicotts had swayed the state in their favor, this new setback had many people in town questioning whether or not it was a good idea to move forward with the project. Despite stipulations by the historical society that the sixteenth-century wall and fortress were to be preserved and remain intact during renovations for the luxury hotel, the Endicotts’ decision to tear down the wall supposedly angered the spirits of the Pickering sisters and had set forth the curse on the town. And now Rebecca seemed to be the spokesperson for the supernatural forces that had been unleashed on Hawthorne.

  Abigail muttered, “Now she’s gone and made things even worse. I’ve always told her not to play with fire—but I never thought she’d literally do it.”

  “Mom,” Maddie scolded. “You should be more concerned with how she got out than the fact that she got onto the news. If she hadn’t turned up on television, we may never have known that she got out of Fairview in the first place.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “Mom, please,” Maddie said, trying to reason with her. “You know that there is no possible way that Aunt Rebecca could have started those fires. She’s so frail and weak, she wouldn’t have it in her.”

  “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

  “What are you talking about?” The phone rang again. Maddie checked the caller ID and it was a news station. She hit the Ignore button.

  “Well, I’m not the terrible sister that you seem to think I am. I actually have been going to visit her when I go in for my chemotherapy treatments.”

  “Mom!” Maddie said in an elated tone. It was so surprising that her mother would take the time to visit Rebecca, especially after everything that had happened.

  “Don’t Mom me!” Abigail scolded, seemingly uncomfortable with the approval in Maddie’s voice. “Fairview is connected with the hospital where I get my treatments, so I figured, why not?”

  “How do you think she got out?” Maddie asked.

  “Probably one of her groupies let her out,” Abigail huffed.

  “Groupies?” Now Maddie was really confused.

  “I don’t know what you call them. Fans? Disciples? Whatever. Ever since Rebecca came out of the coma, people think she’s some sort of sage or fortune-teller or healer.”

  Maddie asked earnestly, “Why haven’t you told me any of this?”

  Just then, Abigail Crane did something that utterly shocked Maddie. She started to cry. “Mom, what?”

  Abigail pulled the scarf off her head to reveal fluffy brown hair, like downy duck fuzz on top of her head. “I stopped the chemo after the first course of treatment. I just couldn’t handle it. It affected me worse than anyone ever expected. My hair was going, my appetite gone. You’ve been running around so much that you haven’t even noticed how quickly it sickened me. But I didn’t want to burden you with this. I—I thought I could handle it myself. Then I continued visiting Rebecca. She told me that she could see the cancer. She could actually see it!”

  Maddie felt the guilt creeping in. She was so preoccupied with the drama of adjusting to life back in Hawthorne that she’d nearly forgotten her mother was going through her own private hell.

  “She started telling me what to do: drink different herbal mixtures, carry different stones, go to meditate in different areas near the ocean. Ridiculous things, but what other choice did I have? The doctors told me to start putting my affairs in order and that they would ‘make me comfortable’ when the time came. Rebecca would hold my hand and say things and…” She paused as if she were embarrassed to say the words. “…talk to my body. She was actually talking to the cancer cells. That’s what she said anyway. Until one day, she told me it was gone.”

  Maddie opened her eyes, wide with shock.

  “Of course, I didn’t believe her. But then I started hearing stories from the nurses who worked with her, saying that she was helping them cure all sorts of ailments. They were bringing other patients in to talk to her and spend time with her and their diseases just seemed to disappear.”

  Abigail continued as Maddie sat and stared, eyes wide and mouth open. She ignored the incessant ringing of the phones.

  “One woman who was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s had everything just come back. I mean, everything! She asked to see her husband, her kids, and I was there for the reunion. It was incredible. It was…magic.”

  “So, what about you?” Maddie asked, wiping the tears from her eyes.

  “Well, I wasn’t going to take my sister’s word for it that she can cure me, that’s for sure. So I went back to my oncologist and they—they said they’d never seen anyone go into remission so quickly. They didn’t understand it. Nothing had worked on me. Not the chemo, not the radiation, nothing! But, somehow…it’s gone!” Abigail burst into tears and fell into Maddie’s lap, soaking her jeans with her tears.

  Maddie stroked her mother’s newly grown hair, soft as tufts of cotton, and her own tears dropped down upon her mother. Her mother, who was no longer sick, no longer cancer-ridden. Her mother, who was healed.

  Cordelia let the phone ring and ring and ring, but there was no answer at Mariner’s Way. She wondered if they had gone out looking for Rebecca after watching the news. Cordelia knew where her mother would go if given the opportunity. She just didn’t want to face her alone. With Maddie by her side, it would be easier. She hailed a cab and headed out of Salem and back to Hawthorne. Back to where it all began. And where it would ultimately end.

  Cordelia picked her way down the snow-covered path. As she moved farther into the wo
ods, the small amount of light left in the cool wintry air had been squeezed out from the branches overhead. The clean scent of pine and snow filled her senses. She clutched a bag of rosemary and quartz crystals to give her strength and protect her from danger.

  As Cordelia wandered deeper and deeper into the woods, she marveled at how something as innocuous as a grouping of trees and brush could evoke such feelings of caution and mystery. The branches reached over her head, spreading their limbs and shutting out any stubborn ray of light. It was as if all color had been blighted from the earth and all that remained were different shades of brown and black and white. The sounds from the outside world disappeared and were replaced by the whispers and licks of air rushing through the trees, distant winter birds calling out to each other, as though they were chiding her for trespassing. Soon she would be home.

  She couldn’t be sure if Maddie was really coming through to her in her dreams. Could it be possible that Maddie had acquired this talent while Cordelia was gone? What else had changed?

  When Maddie finally answered the phone, she sounded different. Hesitant, almost. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to Cordelia. She did run off for an entire year without giving them any clue as to where she was or if she was all right. But it seemed more than that. Maddie sounded a little angry. Wounded. But at the same time, she was her family. Her sister! They shared a father. The man that she wanted to make pay for all of the deception and lies and torture he’d put all the women in his life through. But first things first. Perhaps Maddie would help her with her quest to make Malcolm Crane pay for his mistakes.

  Yet why should she hold this man who didn’t even know her responsible for his mistakes, when she had made plenty enough of her own? She wasn’t there for her own mother—practically drove her insane with her foolish running away. And Tess…