The Haunting

by E. M. MacCallum

  I gasped. “Phoebe, the bite mark.” A purple circle the size of a baseball had grown around the puncture marks.

  “What the hell, Phoebe?” Read growled and leaned in to check the wound above her ankle.

  She explained the snake to Read, then said, “I don’t feel anything. Last Challenge, I felt the effects of the poison but not this time.”

  “It sure looks like you’ve been poisoned,” Read pointed out. His eyes focused on the spidered veins that splayed up her calf, stopping halfway.

  “I feel fine,” she assured him, tightening the knot.

  Claire wasn’t bleeding much, at least. The bullet must have barely grazed her.

  As much as I felt Read’s concern, I had to agree. She looked better this round. She wasn’t pale and sweating with the smallest exertion. “Maybe it’s this time thing. Joel hasn’t complained about his hand, either.”

  Joel looked up at the sound of his name.

  With the angry mob backing away, Cody whispered, “The fog.”

  I followed his gaze past the scarecrow. The fog began to curl and beckon to us.

  “Guys,” I said through teeth.

  Joel helped Claire to her feet. “We can’t run back,” he said, glancing back at the villagers.

  “We have to,” Read said, jutting a thumb over his shoulder at the fog.

  Phoebe said, “I wonder if the witches can’t come further than this.”

  “Probably why the villagers stopped,” Read agreed.

  “But we have this now.” Joel picked up the canvas bag of salt that had fallen at his feet when he dropped Claire near us.

  “If it even works,” Cody muttered.

  Claire glared daggers. “It will,” she snapped. She looked for Joel, but I saw the doubt flash in her eyes for just a second.

  “Right,” Phoebe said curtly. “Let’s go and get this done.”

  The fog touched my skin, caressing my shoulder with an unpleasant dampness. Read cringed as the fog touched him. Cody shivered and shuffled closer to Read and Phoebe for warmth.

  A high-pitched laughter echoed through the cemetery.

  I took a deep breath and glanced at Phoebe to see her watching me. “Take my hand,” she said.

  Without prompting, we all clasped hands as the fog rolled over us so thickly it was difficult to see who I held.

  “It’s okay,” I said, my voice betraying me. “Don’t anyone let go. Just start walking.”

  Read had been up the front; he had Phoebe who had me. I had Cody on my other side, and he had Claire, then Joel. In single-file, like your average kindergarten class, we shuffled forward.

  The fog affected my clothes. My pajamas clung to me, my hair starting to get damp. It also affected my grip. My hands were getting wet and cold in Cody’s and Phoebe’s hands.

  “Where are we going?” I heard Claire whisper.

  “Ssshhhhh,” Joel and I hissed together.

  We were blind here. The last thing we needed was to draw bad attention to us.

  Shivering, I tried to concentrate on keeping warm, but it was impossible. The chill in the fog swept through us. I sympathized with Cody the most. If we could find a shirt for him somewhere, it would at least help.

  It felt as if we hadn’t ventured far when I ran into Phoebe’s back.

  Cody collided with me with a humph. Then I heard Claire’s startled gasp when she ran into Cody.

  “What’s going on?” Cody whispered, so low in my ear it tickled.

  I shrugged, then realized he couldn’t see me. I tugged at his hand to follow me as I came up to Phoebe’s side and saw what had caused the sudden halt.

  The fog dropped off so suddenly it was as if by an invisible barrier. The barrier formed a wide berth around scattered tombstones that formed a circle around a large, black cauldron. Low flames and angry embers licked the bottom of the suspended cauldron. My eyes scanned the clearing, anticipating witches.

  Not a sound reached my ears outside of the ragged breaths of my group. I waited on needles as the silence stretched.

  When Joel spoke, he whispered but at the same time, he sounded too loud. “Let’s go around this part.”

  We all knew we couldn’t. I let go of Phoebe and Cody’s hands.

  “Fuller,” I heard Phoebe hiss.

  Ignoring her, I stepped closer to the cauldron, hearing the bubbling and hissing from within. Inching closer, I peered over the edge to see a shiny black liquid. The foul odor wafting from the pot caused me to gag. It was like a combination of gasoline and rotten meat that permeated the air.

  Wrinkling my nose, I turned back to the others. “What if this can help us?”

  “Maybe you should try some,” Joel suggested with a rancorous smile.

  I sneered at him.

  “We don’t know what it is,” Read argued.

  “Won’t know unless someone tries it,” Phoebe said.

  Read gave her a sour glance, and so did I.

  Cody searched the ground around us. “If we could find something like a jar to carry it in, we could take some with us. Maybe it will come in handy later.”

  “Maybe…” Claire said covering her face with her hand. “It smells like something that could do damage.”

  Joel made an exaggerated show of looking over each shoulder before asking, “Where do you think we’ll find a jar?”

  Cody’s eyes narrowed defensively.

  A shrill cackle above our heads startled us all.

  Looking up, I saw three women plummet from the sky. Above, it was clear. Well as clear as a black sky could be. No fog touched the circle all the way up to the clouds.

  I froze, hearing Phoebe shout behind me to move. Frozen, I realized I couldn’t. I didn’t think, didn’t move, didn’t react until the last second.

  One of the tree witches dove straight at me.

  Dropping unceremoniously to the ground in a turtle position, I covered my head with my hands.

  When nothing happened, I looked up in time to see an irrationally thin woman veer her broom upward. Her eyes danced with delight as she jogged to a stop on the other side of the cauldron and hopped off of the broomstick.

  Uncurling between two tombstones, I used one to help me stand. Read skidded toward me and helped steady me.

  The first witch who had nearly speared me grinned. Her robes hung off her bony figure as if made for someone bigger. Her skeletal arms showed, so thin that they could have been just bone and white flesh. She lifted her broom up, using it as a walking stick. Her thinning, light-brown hair stretched back into a bun. I wondered if it was tight enough to make her eyes bug-out like that or if that was natural. She licked her chapped thin lips and studied us.

  A shorter, plump witch stepped past the tall, narrow one, her dark eyes never passing over us. “You have trespassed onto our territory.” She scrutinized the contents of her cauldron pot as if we somehow tampered with it.

  I glanced at my friends, hesitating before I said, “I’m sorry. The villagers chased us here.” My eyes caught Joel as he held the bag of salt behind his back.

  “Villagers?” the third witch asked in a smooth, sultry voice. She had wild red curls that fell down to her waist. Smooth tempered and tanned, her skin looked digitally remastered.

  None of the witches appeared to be any older than thirty.

  “You poor children,” the skinny witch cooed. “Where are the villagers now?”

  Phoebe spoke up, and I wished she hadn’t. “They stopped chasing us.”

  “Oh?” The skinny one sounded clearly amused.

  Phoebe cleared her throat. “Yes. At the scarecrow. We didn’t know we were trespassing when we came into the fog.”

  “Oh?” the skinny witch repeated. She took a few steps towards us, a heavy limp revealing itself as she relied on the broom to keep from toppling to the side. She squinted her buggy-eyes at us. Could it be that our witch was near-sighted?

  “The scarecrow?” the shorter one asked and chuckled. “I see our mortal example is still holdi
ng strong.”

  The redhead chuckled, sounding musical and enchanting.

  Phoebe cracked her knuckles. “We’re looking for a few things.”

  “Mmmhmm.” The bug-eyed witch wrung her knotted hands together. For such a youthful face—no matter how ugly—her liver-spotted hands had knuckles far larger than they should be. “Well.” The witch straightened herself and glanced over her shoulder at her sisters. “Perhaps we could help.”

  The plump witch nodded, jowls wobbling in her renewed excitement. “So many secrets.” She slipped around the cauldron to get a better look at us.

  I didn’t like how she said it. It was like a threat rather than an observation.

  “Secrets?” Joel asked. He didn’t hide his curiosity as he pointed brazenly towards me. “Can you tell us some of them?”

  “Joel,” I hissed. “This isn’t the time. We need to find the way outta here.”

  The redheaded witch clapped her hands, catching my attention. A disturbing smile peeled her full red lips from white teeth. “I know where the door is.”

  “You do?” Phoebe asked. She glanced at me. “Where? We’ll go find it and get out of your…territory.”

  The pretty witch shook her head, clucking her tongue in disapproval.

  “You cannot do that,” the plump witch agreed with a chuckle. “Can they, Atropos?” She glanced over to the skinny witch.

  Atropos answered with a yellow smile and adjusted her grip on the staff/upside-down broom.

  “So, then what?” Phoebe demanded.

  The plump witch stepped back to her cauldron. She peered down into the bubbling dark liquid before answering. “You cannot leave until you know the truth.”

  The red witch gasped and placed a hand to her mouth. It was then that I noticed the silver glitter on her finger. Cody noticed the ring at the same time as me and nudged me in the ribs.

  At first I thought the pretty witch was mocking us, but after several seconds of her holding the pose, I recognized the genuine shock. “Lachesis,” she said and stepped toward the plump witch. She whispered in the woman’s ear for several seconds, putting the rest of us at unease.

  Bug-eyed Atropos didn’t appear impressed by the secrecy but didn’t move to join.

  Lachesis slowly smiled, her eyes brightening at new prospects.

  Cody’s ground his teeth loud enough for me to hear. I shifted on my feet, tugging on my shirt, and Phoebe cracked the knuckles on her other hand until the plump witch spoke.

  “You certainly owe us the truth,” Lachesis said.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “The truth?” Joel scoffed.

  I held up my hand for him to keep quiet, not bothering to look at him.

  “Clotho, bring that one closer.” Lachesis’s hand swept up to point at Joel.

  Joel, still hiding the bag of salt behind his back, bumped into Read beside him. The two exchanged glances before Read transferred the bag from Joel, keeping it hidden. The transition wasn’t smooth at all, but none of the witches commented on it. Maybe they already knew we had the salt. Maybe they didn’t care.

  The red witch, Clotho, danced around Lachesis and Atropos, who stood before us. She reached out for Joel, but Claire stepped in her path. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

  Clotho blinked her purple eyes, her lashes long and thick. She could give Claire a run for her money in the looks department. “I must take him to see the truth.”

  “What truth?” Claire asked.

  “Would you like to see too?” Clotho asked politely under Claire’s spitting jealousy.

  Joel didn’t seem to mind the subtle feud at all.

  Clotho ushered them forward with a graceful twist of her wrist. A wry, untrusting smile spread across her red full mouth.

  I glanced at Phoebe then Cody worriedly.

  Claire gripped Joel’s arm, not out of fear but possessiveness.

  The three witches looked at one another before the plump witch, Lachesis, rolled her sleeves back. She leaned forward and peered over the cauldron. Clotho nudged Joel closer, much to Claire’s disgust.

  “Does this mean they’ll let us go?” Cody asked me. “After we see the truth?”

  I shrugged helplessly. “How should I know?”

  “I don’t like this,” Phoebe confessed.

  Read shook his head.

  Joel stepped up to the cauldron, his stance wide as if he were ready to bolt. At least he was on his guard. Claire held back, wringing her hands together. Her eyes shifted back toward us, worry creasing between her eyebrows.

  As Joel peered into the black bubbling goo, he went rigid. His shoulder stiffened, his hands curled into fists, and every muscle in his back and arms tensed and bulged.

  I turned to Phoebe worriedly. “What if they’re brain-washing him?”

  Phoebe shrugged. “What else can we do?”

  She was right. We had to take these little risks, but I didn’t like it much.

  “Joel?” Claire snapped my attention back to the cauldron.

  He was breathing heavier, his jaw thrust forward, nostrils flaring. Whatever he was seeing, it enraged him.

  Claire touched his arm. He swatted it away. Claire stepped back, clutching her hand, startled. At the same time, the four of us drew closer together. Read grabbed my wrist with his free hand. “If we have to run,” he whispered, his breath tickling and cool, “don’t hesitate.”

  I nodded.

  The sound in Joel’s throat sounded animalistic at first, a deep, throaty growl that grew into an obstreperous shout that jangled my nerves.

  Pivoting, Joel launched himself at me!

  I stepped back with an urgent gasp of surprise as his eyes bored into me with such hatred that I felt panic strike.

  “Whoa!” Read shouted, stepping ahead of me. Phoebe was right behind him, and I was ready to run, though at the same time, I didn’t want to separate.

  Bearing down on me, Joel was just a few feet away when I finally moved.

  Stumbled back to the edge of the fog, my foot struck something behind me. Toppling back over a tombstone, I landed hard on my shoulder blades. At least it wasn’t my neck or the scratches.

  Phoebe leapt onto Joel’s back.

  Read had stepped in front of me, his free hand out in a “stop” motion.

  Claire hurried after him, but Cody stopped her before she could reach them. It was a good thing, considering Joel was spinning with Phoebe clinging to his back. Together, they were a cacophony of curses and shouts.

  Joel tried to wrench her arms free as they clamped around his neck.

  With my tailbone still pressed to the tombstone, I rolled clumsily and staggered to my feet. Not wanting to be brave, I hid behind Read. If Joel had reached me, if I hadn’t moved…

  “What is going on?” Claire shrieked, her hands to her face.

  Joel had managed to wrench Phoebe’s arms free and ducked out of the way before she could leap on him again.

  Fumbling, Phoebe crowded in front of me with Read.

  Joel’s stiffened shoulders didn’t relax as his hateful gaze landed on me again. “You said your aunt was in a mental hospital? Why isn’t she in jail?” His booming voice frightened me nearly as much as his unexpected charge.

  I wasn’t sure how I could answer that without sounding as if I were defending Nell. She wasn’t worth defending. Instead, I stared at him, wide-eyed and frozen. “I don’t know.”

  “All these years. All these damn years!” Joel raged, raising his arms, the muscles bulging and twitching with tension as he ran his hands over the stubble on his shaved head. “Do you even know what it feels like?”

  “Know what what feels like?” I asked, daring to raise my voice above the timid whisper.

  “She died, and I thought it was all my fault. I thought it was because of me. But it wasn’t. She killed her.”

  “Little less cryptic,” Phoebe suggested, her tone firm but hardly grating.

  “Bess!” he screamed at Phoebe, his face reddening.
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  “Who’s Bess?” Claire asked.

  I understood immediately. Bess, the girl who Joel had left after she had become pregnant. After he had left, she had drowned in an apparent suicide. We had all met her in the last Challenge, dripping wet and hungry for revenge. She almost killed me. “Nell killed Bess?” I asked meekly. “That’s impossible.”

  I remembered the nurse mentioning Nell’s temporary escape. And Nell said she’d gotten letters. In fact, she made sure I knew she received letters from a young girl.

  Holy shit.

  Joel tapped his head as if I were stupid. “Yes,” he said. “She tied her to a brick and let her sink under water. Told her how she would cleanse her in some new-age ritual. Then she ripped out some of Bess’s hair and took blood from her…from her stomach.”

  I shuddered as I remembered Bess’s vision. She’d been tied to a brick; the rope had pulled her down. My aunt did that…no, the woman who gave birth to me did that.

  She must have coerced and attacked an innocent girl—a pregnant innocent girl—to get out of this world forever. If she hadn’t been found, she may not be serving what little justice she could.

  No wonder Bess showed me what’d happened. I swallowed hard and held back the shame. I shouldn’t be regretting what this woman did. She wasn’t my mother. My mom took care of me, clothed me, taught me, loved me. Nell didn’t do any of that. She hurt people to get what she wanted. At least she didn’t gain access to the Demon’s Grave back then. Something must have gone wrong, or she’d been caught before she could finish the Midnight Ruling. Did that mean Bess was real? Trapped in the Demon’s Grave?

  “I didn’t do that to her,” I shouted over everyone. “Stop blaming me for everything. Nell did these horrible things. She sacrificed my sister and Bess. She did. Not me.” I pushed Phoebe and Read out of my way.

  Reluctantly, they stepped aside but didn’t fall far back as I approached Joel.

  “You knew about her,” Joel argued. “Your sister is still alive, and Bess is dead. That bitch should be dead.”

  “I agree.” I focused on his eyes so he could see that I was serious. “I wish she were dead. I wish I wasn’t related to her. I wish she never existed.” Then I wouldn’t exist, but I didn’t say that. In a small self-pitying corner of my consciousness, I wished I didn’t exist either.