Return to Seven Sisters

by M. L. Bullock

  “No. I like the Big Red Dog. That dog,” he said as he pointed again, “has black fur all ober his body. He is not nice, not like a cawtoon. He walks funny.”

  “Walks funny?” I said as my appetite disappeared. I asked seriously, “You mean the doggy walks on two legs like a person?”

  “Yeah, but he’s not. He’s a doggy.” He crawled into my lap and nestled his head on my chest.

  “Okay,” I said, hoping Ash would come back inside soon. I didn’t like the way this conversation was going. This sounded all too familiar. When Ashland returned, he looked stricken. He locked the door behind him and wiggled the kitchen window lock to make sure it was secure, then sat back down without saying anything.

  “Well?” I asked as I stroked Baby Boy’s hair.

  “I didn’t see anyone. No dogs.” He cut another sliver of sandwich off the muffaletta and poured himself some more tea. I couldn’t read his face or his tone.

  “O-kay?”

  “I saw some tracks under the window,” he said in a low voice. He gave Baby Boy a cautious look and wouldn’t say anything else about it in front of him. Our son was clearly frightened by something. After we finished eating, Ashland and I went to the ladies’ parlor to clean up the rest of the party mess. True to his word, Henri had cleaned up most of it, but there was still quite a bit to do. AJ was anxious to watch his show, so we hurried up the job and headed to the Blue Room for some family time. While our son played, I sat next to Ashland on our big couch and caught him up on everything I’d seen this morning.

  “You’re dream walking again, and our son is seeing the Black Wolf. This isn’t good, Carrie Jo.”

  “We don’t know it was the Black Wolf, Ashland. He is a child; he makes up stuff all the time. Maybe he was making that up too.”

  Ashland cut his eyes at me. I knew I was only lying to myself. Our son had seen something that sounded a lot like the Black Wolf, a spirit creature we’d encountered at the Idlewood mansion.

  “What do we do now?” I asked him, hoping he’d have some answers.

  “What we always do. We figure it out. I hope I didn’t make the wrong decision bringing us back here.”

  “Hey, don’t start second-guessing yourself. Seven Sisters is our home. You’re right, babe, we’ll handle whatever comes our way. Look at AJ trying to go to sleep. It’s too early for bed, though.”

  “Who says? I’m exhausted right now.”

  I kissed his cheek and leaned against him for a moment. “Stay here and catch forty winks, then; I’ll take Baby Boy upstairs for a bath. You need anything?”

  “No. Well, nothing right this minute.” He kissed me softly and touched my hair. As always, he melted my heart with little effort.

  I am absolutely in love with you, Ashland Stuart. For better or for worse, for richer or poorer. Yep, we’d covered all that.

  “Hey, Baby Boy,” I said as I started picking up his toys.

  “I’m a big boy, Mommy. No baby.”

  “Oh, sorry. I forgot I’m not allowed to call you that anymore. Well, Mr. Ashland James, sir, would you mind helping me with these toys? Then we can go upstairs and take a bubble bath.”

  “Okay, okay!” He clapped his hands.

  Ten minutes later, he was sloshing bubbles all over the bathroom floor. It was only five o’clock, but it felt much later with the overcast sky. I didn’t want to ask AJ about the dog again, but I was certainly on guard. Like we didn’t have enough going on here without the Black Wolf showing up.

  After I helped my son dress in his new pajamas, he yawned and wanted to lie down in his Bob Bob bed. His teacher said AJ was always the first to fall asleep at naptime. He did love to nap. It was early, but I decided not to fight him on this. I felt anxious, though, either from his report of seeing the dog or from my own experience this morning, or both. I curled up on the bed next to him and stroked his hair until he pushed my hand away.

  “No more, Mommy. I sleep now.”

  “Okay, AJ. You sleep. Mommy will stay right here.”

  He quickly dozed off, and I closed my eyes too. Maybe the best way to know what was really happening with my son was to take a peek into his dreams.

  Whatever he faced there, at least he wouldn’t face it alone.

  Chapter Seven—Ashland Stuart

  I wasn’t tired in the slightest, especially after seeing those massive paw prints under our kitchen window. I found evidence of the Black Wolf around the bay window too. That was where my family ate dinner every night! If Doreen had seen anything, she would have told me. Our housekeeper and Henri spent the most time in this part of the house, and neither one of them was likely to keep quiet about such a thing. How long had this creature been stalking around Seven Sisters? And what was weird was the muddy tracks were from a two-legged animal, not the four-legged kind. Either someone was having some fun at our expense by stomping around with fake paw prints, someone who knew about our past experiences with this creature, or the Black Wolf had returned.

  How could that be? We’d burned the grimoire! What else was left to do?

  Like most things regarding the supernatural or paranormal or whatever you wanted to call it, it was a head-scratcher. Once I heard Baby Boy and CJ settle down upstairs, I headed back to the kitchen to make a phone call.

  “Hey, Jan. Is Rachel there?”

  “Hello, Ashland. How are you feeling?” Jan’s voice echoed over the phone.

  “I’m doing fine. Much better, in fact.”

  “That’s wonderful. I couldn’t say where Rachel is. She keeps to herself most of the time.”

  “When you do see her, would you ask her to call me? It’s…I’d like to talk to her sooner rather than later.”

  “Sure, but I don’t know when that will be. Rachel comes and goes and doesn’t say a word to me. We’re not…I mean, I’m worried about her.”

  What could I say to that? I didn’t want to alarm Jan, but I knew for a fact that Rachel was interested in working with the Brotherhood, the very group Austin had warned us about. Maybe it was temporary? Rachel had a curious mind. Perhaps she just wanted to learn more about them? Nope. Not likely. You didn’t hang out with those kinds of people and walk away. Once you were in, you were in for life. But again, I couldn’t read her mind.

  I listened to the wind whip through the oak near the bay window and said, “I wish I knew what she was up to, Jan, but you know how private she is these days. That’s why I’m calling your house phone. I don’t think her cell phone is working.” I heard a noise from upstairs, Carrie Jo laughing. Probably some silly thing AJ was up to.

  “You want to tell me what’s going on, Ashland? Do you need my help?” Jan’s voice sounded weak and sad. No, I wasn’t going to get her involved in this. Not this time.

  Sorry, Jan. You’ll have to sit this one out.

  “No, but feel free to burn a few candles for us over there. We could always use the prayers.”

  “I always do. And I’ll put a note on Rachel’s door and ask her to call you.”

  “Thanks, Jan. Hey, how’s Bree doing?” I knew she’d taken Austin’s departure hard.

  “As well as you’d expect, I guess. Bye, Ashland. You look out for Carrie Jo and the baby.” She hung up, and I stared out the window. Things had quieted down upstairs again. This was as good a time as any to do my own kind of walking. Not dream walking, but ghost walking, if that was a thing. When I told Carrie Jo I didn’t see ghosts anymore, I was telling the truth. I hadn’t seen a thing since we left the hospital. And I needed to. I had to protect my family. For the most part, I wasn’t afraid of the ghosts of Seven Sisters. But this Black Wolf terrified me. I had to try.

  “Okay, if you’re here, I want to see you. Don’t hide from me,” I whispered as I walked around the kitchen. I even stepped out on the patio and searched there too but didn’t hear or see anything. With a frustrated sigh, I walked back inside and began my search in earnest. I would walk Seven Sisters room by room if I had to. If there was something or someone here, I w
ould find them.

  And then what? And then what will you do, tough guy?

  Standing in the foyer, I repeated the same phrase. “If you’re here, I want to see you. This is my house now—you cannot hide in the shadows.” With my hands on my hips, I kept talking. I kept asking for someone to step forward. I got the distinct sensation that someone or something was watching me. I ignored the slight headache that began to burn behind my eyes. My medication was upstairs in my medicine cabinet. Had I taken it today? No time for that now. I walked around the circular area and stood on the soft carpet.

  “Don’t hide from me.” I thought I heard the tearing of paper, but it didn’t last long enough for me to accurately attribute the sounds to anything more than my imagination. In my experience investigating the paranormal, mundane sounds could be misconstrued as something ghostly. From there, I walked into the ladies’ parlor. I could still smell cupcakes and fruit punch from Chloe’s party. I checked the doors to make sure they were locked and stared out the window for a few more minutes but saw nothing that would lead me to believe there were any ghosts nearby. Sliding open the pocket doors, I stepped into the rarely used men’s parlor. It felt cold in here, but then again, this room was always shadowy. The windows were nearly covered with foliage. I’d have to trim that back soon. Closing the doors behind me, I twisted on the lamp switch, and soft light filled this part of the room. Unlike those paranormal investigators on television, I didn’t need complete darkness to see ghosts. If I could see them anymore.

  “My name is Ashland Stuart. What is your name?” I waited for what seemed like an eternity but did not hear an answer to my question. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me.

  Way to go, Ash. Psych yourself out.

  The faint scent of cigar smoke wafted toward me, but I didn’t make too much of it. How many hundreds of cigars had gentlemen puffed over hundreds of years in this very room? Too many to count, which was exactly why I could not assign this odor to anything paranormal. The types of wood in this room, pine and oak, held the scent of cigar and cigarette smoke for an eternity. Who could say I wasn’t smelling the traces of a long-ago pipe?

  But I was sure eyes were watching me—even though I couldn’t see them. My skin warmed with anticipation. I walked around the room and touched some of the antiques to show whomever was watching that I wanted to connect with the past, to connect with them.

  “I know you are here. What are you afraid of?” Nothing else happened, so I left and went into the Blue Room. Thirty minutes later, I had finished my investigation of the bottom floor of Seven Sisters. I was making no progress, and I had a family to protect. This wasn’t the time for my brain to be glitching out as it had done so consistently the past six months. Who’s to say that the tumor wasn’t the thing that caused me to see the apparitions to begin with? I couldn’t believe that—I wouldn’t! I’d seen ghosts all my life, Calpurnia, Isla, my mother and so many others.

  As carefully and quietly as possible, I walked upstairs. I had to take my time now since my feet and my brain didn’t always agree on what to do next. What a sight I was, the great Ashland Stuart, former football star, holding onto the railing like a toddler as I eased up the stairs. I wouldn’t go into the Devecheauxs’ room, but there were plenty of other rooms to search. I would begin with Calpurnia’s.

  As I reached out to open the door, a flood of memories came back to me. I could see Carrie Jo standing in the overgrown front lawn of the house. She was staring up at Seven Sisters’ faded paint and crumbling columns with wonder as if she were a visitor approaching an ancient Greek temple. I couldn’t say whether that was the first time I knew that I loved her; if not then, sometime soon after. What would my life be without Carrie Jo? Other memories rose up: Carrie Jo’s friend holding an unauthorized séance here, the time Calpurnia begged her father to set her free and so many others…

  I opened the door and again heard the sound of tearing paper. Yes, that wasn’t a coincidence. I did hear the sound of paper. With my hand still on the doorknob, I checked the bottoms of my shoes just to make sure I hadn’t stepped on some random receipt. There was nothing to see, and I had no paper in my pockets either.

  I stepped into the room and said, “I hear you in here. Are you writing a note?” Then it occurred to me: Who would be handling paper here at Seven Sisters? It must be Calpurnia, my long-lost cousin. Well, maybe not so lost, from what Carrie Jo told me. It was strange that Muncie’s relative Marcus knew to come to the hospital to see her that day. And where had he been since? I didn’t think CJ had ever seen him again. “I hear you tearing paper. Is that you, Calpurnia? Do you want to tell me something? Are you writing notes to David Garrett?” I walked around and waited, then sat on the edge of the bed and looked out the open window. There wasn’t much moonlight yet since it was still early in the evening, but the clouds gathering outside made me doubt that we would see much moonlight tonight, anyway.

  “Calpurnia? Are you here? I am your cousin Ashland. You can talk to me.”

  I sat quietly for about ten minutes before I gave up. If the ghosts didn’t want to talk to me, I couldn’t force them to. But I wasn’t quite ready to abandon my exploration yet; there were other rooms to explore and of course the Moonlight Garden to walk. Maybe I should have started there? I opened the door and stood in the hallway, pondering which room to visit next, when I heard violins swelling up from downstairs, softly at first and then louder. As I looked down the stairs, the light seemed to shift and change. It grew darker as if the bottom floor were enveloped in an inky black fog. I held my breath and stood on the second-floor landing clutching the railing. The fog didn’t rise higher than the bottom two stairs but stayed concentrated downstairs. I heard the sounds of tinkling glass and laughter, like a party. I glanced over my shoulder and saw an oil lamp in the hallway behind me. An oil lamp? We didn’t have those types of lamps up here! Carrie Jo and AJ were safe in his room. They were safe, and I could go investigate without worrying about them. That’s what I would do.

  I’d been reaching out to the ghosts of the past for at least an hour, and now it looked like they were ready to talk. Who was I to keep them waiting? My hands were sweaty, but my headache was gone. I eased down the stairs carefully to prevent myself from falling and closed my eyes as I descended into the blackness. When I opened them again, the fog had disappeared.

  The foyer was awash with yellow light, the light of candles and oil lamps beautifully arranged on the walls and tables. The warmth created a romantic illumination. Couples poured into the ballroom, but there were crowds of people lingering in the foyer. As I took the last step, I glanced down to check my footing and realized that I was no longer wearing blue jeans and tennis shoes but a fine gray suit and black shoes that were so polished they shone. My hands were my own, but before I could wonder at the meaning of all this, a young woman came to me with her hands extended. With big dark eyes and trembling lips, she whispered, “I’m so glad you could make it.”

  Next thing I knew, I was following the crowd into the ballroom and was quickly swept up in a waltz with Lafonda Delarosa.

  Chapter Eight—Carrie Jo

  A black spider ran across my big toe, and I did a two-step trying to get away from it. What a weird spider! It wasn’t like any I’d seen around Seven Sisters before. It had a fat, shiny body like it was made of plastic. It looked like a cartoon creature!

  “Baby Boy!” I said as I quickly realized that I was not in control here—this was AJ’s dream.

  But I was here, and this crazy spider was proof that my son was dreaming too. I stood in the second-floor hallway of Seven Sisters, but it wasn’t quite the same. The walls were painted white, and there was not a stick of furniture. No rugs, no lamps—nothing except shadows and blowing white curtains that looked like ghosts hovering in the doorway that led to the balcony porch at the end of the hall. So strange.

  Suddenly, my son crossed the hallway in front of me at lightning speed, running from one open doo
r to the next. He was wearing his pajamas and his favorite cape, the one his Uncle Harry bought him for his birthday. The look on his face troubled me.

  “AJ!” I whispered to him. “It’s Mommy!”

  He whimpered, and I ran through the shadowy doorway after him. This room looked nothing like my real bedroom. Only the bed remained, and it seemed twice as large as it really was.

  Because I am seeing what he sees!

  I heard Ashland James whimper again but couldn’t see him. Why would he hide from me? The room felt frigid, the floor beneath my feet like ice.

  “AJ?” I tiptoed to the opposite side of the bed but did not find him there. He must be hiding under the bed. It was his favorite hiding spot whenever we played hide-and-seek.

  “AJ?” I knelt down and peeked under the bed. “It’s me, Mommy.”

  “You aren’t really Mommy. Go away!” He scooted away from me, his eyes full of fear.

  That broke my heart, but I tried not to take it personally. I lay on the floor next to the bed so he could see me clearly. I didn’t reach for him or force him to come out. “No, Baby Boy, I am not a monster. Look. See my face? See my hands? Just Mommy face. Just Mommy hands.”

  He wrapped his cape around himself but didn’t come closer. “What about your feet?”

  “My feet?” I asked him.

  “Do you have monster feet?”

  “Nope,” I said as I showed him my toes and wiggled them playfully. He still wasn’t in a hurry to hug my neck. Patiently, I waited, stretched out flat on the cold floor next to the bed. “Can I hide with you? It’s scary out here.”

  He reached out his chubby hand to me and nodded with wide eyes. “Okay, but be quiet, Mommy. The doggy will hear us.”

  “Okay,” I whispered back. My skin crawled at hearing him mention the Black Wolf. I slid under the bed with him and pulled him close to me. He smelled like apple juice and little-boy sweat, just like in real life. He sweated up a storm when he slept. Always had.