The Haunting

by E. M. MacCallum

  Joel relaxed, enough to appear restrained.

  Past Joel, I saw Clotho touch Cody’s arm. He gave a start, and Claire jerked away before he could bump her. “You should be next,” I heard her say.

  Joel turned his head to see who Clotho was referring to. “Don’t do it, man,” he said.

  Cody was hesitant to begin. He turned round, pleading eyes to the rest of us.

  “By seeing these, you promise to give us the way out?” Phoebe asked, stepping past Joel. “We would be allowed safe passage out of here?”

  Atropos smiled wide, revealing a row of crooked teeth.

  Cody slowly released Claire. “You have to promise,” he said. “I won’t go up there unless you do.”

  “For all we know,” Read said, his smooth voice cutting through the panic and grief, “you could be lying. Everything you show us could be made up.”

  “No, no.” Lachesis shook her head, jowls swishing. “We know only the truth. The truth of the past, the present, and the future.”

  “We will grant you the doorway if you grant us the truth. If not, there will be no escape,” Atropos said.

  Joel shook his head at Cody, urging him otherwise.

  Cody’s eyes shifted to Phoebe, who shrugged, her arms outstretched as if to say, “What choice do we have?”

  Backing away from Claire, she immediately scurried into Joel’s open arms. I felt a faint jealousy. I wanted to be held and protected in that instant. Still shaken from the violent attempt at bashing my face in, I hugged myself instead.

  Nearing the cauldron, Cody inched closer and closer. With each step, Clotho edged closer to him until she was practically touching him. Awkward and fully aware of Clotho’s proximity, Cody leaned over the crackling black sludge. He didn’t bother glancing at any of the witches, who all stared at his face as if he were the most fascinating specimen to come before them. Falling still, Cody watched whatever was in the stinky cauldron. His face went from tense to slack to stricken.

  “Cody?” I called cautiously. “What do you see?”

  He didn’t answer. His shoulders stiffened and the muscles in his cheeks twitched when he clenched teeth.

  “Uh oh,” Read muttered and grabbed my arm.

  I didn’t protest or resist as he pulled me back behind him and Phoebe.

  “Cody’s lived in Leland his whole life,” I blurted in a whisper. “Nell never visited Leland…I think.” I couldn’t be certain. I hadn’t known that she was a few towns over murdering a girl and Joel’s unborn child either. Of all the people she could have come in contact with, it had to be Joel’s ex.

  Cody’s arms at his sides began to shake.

  This wasn’t good.

  “Cody, look away,” Phoebe suggested, her voice barely carrying.

  Cody’s arms remained stiff. His stomach moved with each breath instead of his chest as he remained perfectly still—eerily still.

  Lachesis anxiously stared at his face before commanding, “That is enough, Clotho.”

  I hadn’t realized it before, but Clotho had been touching the cauldron on the other side of Cody. As she pulled her hand back, I saw her red palm. So red, in fact, that it should have been a third-degree burn, yet she didn’t flinch. She smiled at Cody as he lifted his zombie-like gaze.

  Ignoring her and all of our stares, he stepped rigidly back to our group.

  “Cody…” Phoebe whispered. “What was it?”

  He didn’t answer, his eyes averted from all of us. He went to stand behind me, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

  I peeked over my shoulder and stared at him until he finally looked up. I mouthed, “Are you okay?”

  He started to shake his head when I heard Phoebe snap. “You said you’d show the door. I don’t want to look into that thing.”

  Twisting, I saw Clotho ushering Phoebe forward with a plastic smile etched into her stunning features.

  Phoebe stubbornly dug her heels in when Atropos hissed. “You will oblige us or we won’t bring the door to you. You could wander this place for centuries if we wanted you to.”

  “Or have new scarecrows,” Clotho purred.

  “Just do it,” Joel said in a harsh whisper.

  Phoebe’s eyes narrowed at him, but she took four long strides toward the cauldron. “Get it over with,” she commanded, waving an arm at Lachesis.

  This time it was Atropos who touched the cauldron. She didn’t even wince as the scalding pot touched her hand.

  Phoebe tucked her honey blonde hair behind her ears and leaned over the cauldron. Staring into the black abyss as the others had done before her, her face remained a stern mask of disapproval. At one point, her neck extended, tilting her chin up. “This is all a lie,” she said at last and stepped back.

  “It’s not finished,” Lachesis argued.

  “I don’t care,” Phoebe retorted. “I’ve seen enough.”

  “Very well. That one.” Lachesis pointed past the group to Claire and me.

  Claire side-stepped to ensure the gnarled finger wasn’t pointing at her.

  It was pointed at me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I frowned and started forward.

  There was no point in complaining. Whatever they were going to show me might be the truth, might be a lie. Either way, I had to see it, but would it betray me? Was that what these three women were doing? Trying to turn us against each other?

  Phoebe didn’t meet my gaze when I passed her on my solitary journey to the black pot.

  Twisting my shirt, I edged closer. The overwhelming heat emanating from the cauldron warmed my bare legs. Leaning over the gurgling sludge, I held my breath against the fetid odor.

  At first all I could see was my own reflection. As distorted as it may have been against the churning sludge, I felt shocked at seeing my own appearance. My blonde hair was wild. My round face looked thinner and paler, though my midnight blue eyes looked wider. My right cheek showed three faint scratches, probably from the evergreen trees in our last Challenge. One hand lifted to touch the side of my cheek gently. Dirt smudged my chin and forehead, and for an instant I was embarrassed by my appearance. I looked like the walking dead. Lowering my hand, I scolded myself internally. This was definitely not the time to be vain.

  Ripples appeared in the center of the sludge, cascading towards the rim of the pot as an image began to take shape.

  Neive was in strange clothes. They didn’t look like any fashion I’d seen in our world. A high-collared dress with purple ruffles that splayed out like a fan at the back of her head. Her hair in an immaculate bun with twists and curls dangling on either side of her face. The dress had what looked like a purple-black metal around her mid-section, like a corset, but it moved with her.

  “You led her here.” The mellifluous voice was unforgettable. Damien was just out of the scene. As much as I strained to see him, I couldn’t.

  “I didn’t realize she’d have the power of a Neophyte,” Neive argued. “That right had been promised to me,” she accused.

  “You no longer are needed,” Damien said, sounding calm.

  Spinning, Neive pointed at him, her face flushed and furious. “You tricked me! You never said you’d asked for her instead of me.”

  “I never thought I’d have to.”

  “You said I should bring her here, knowing this the whole time.”

  “And you tried to warn her away once you found out. You think I don’t know about that note in your grandmother’s tongue?” Damien asked, his voice hardening.

  I hadn’t realized I was leaning forward until my knee sizzled against the side of the pot. Yelping, I scooted back with a hop, my attentions momentarily distracted.

  “So brief,” Atropos grumbled.

  Thinking that Atropos meant the connection to my sister, I quickly looked back into the watery image. I swallowed my panic when I saw Neive’s brown eyes focused on me, seemingly staring straight at me. As our eyes met, I realized that she was seeing me through the image when I saw her speak my n
ame, over-enunciating each syllable.

  The anger withered away, replaced by worry.

  Blinking away the shock, I mouthed her name in return before whispering into the pot. “Are you okay?”

  Neive flashed a wolfish smile. I was unsure if it was reassurance or defiance.

  “Don’t tell her,” Damien warned.

  Neive didn’t look back. She continued that dangerous grin when she said, “Kill them and you’ll pass the Challenge.”

  Then her body convulsed, arching forward as if stabbed from behind. I watched as her mouth opened, and a scream echoed against the rim of the cauldron, barely carrying past it.

  “What is happening?!” I shouted. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Read edging closer.

  This time, the scream tore through the invisible barrier with such force I staggered back in alarm. Her voice vibrated painfully against my eardrums. Falling to my knees, I clamped my palms over my ringing ears. It was as if someone had fired a gun next to my ear. I thought I was screaming, but I wasn’t sure over the explosion of sound.

  The three witches reacted similarly. Squealing, they jumped into the air, arms against the sides of their heads. Unlike them, I couldn’t fly and get away. I wanted to stand, but each time I moved, I felt all my muscles lock and begin to shake, making my invalid attempts to stand look like a newborn deer.

  Read yelled something and dropped the bag of salt. He stumbled off into the wall of fog. The grey cloud swallowed him up completely.

  Cody reached me first, hauling me to my feet by my elbow. Unwilling to unclasp my hands from my ears, I stumbled for my balance.

  To my shock, Phoebe, Cody, Joel, and Claire all seemed unaffected. Their faces were masked in confusion. Couldn’t they hear it?

  The sound felt as if it had been embedded with invisible needles. I heard Claire ask, “What’s wrong with her?”

  With his hand still clamped down on my arm, Cody started for the wall of fog.

  STOP, a voice rang in my ears, causing me to halt, dragging Cody back with me. His head snapped back to stare at me as if I’d just swatted his ass and called him daddy.

  The voice was the first sound beyond the scream that I had heard. Kill the Fates, it said. It was a female’s raspy voice. I had no choice but to trust that it was Neive’s.

  Then as abruptly as it had started, it stopped.

  The world hummed with the new silence. Guardedly, I lowered my hands, shoulders quivering. Cody let me go, unlatching his fingers one at a time as if he were afraid he might have to grab me again.

  “What the hell was that?” Phoebe and Joel demanded in unison.

  “Neive,” I whispered.

  “Who’s Neive?” Claire asked, though no one seemed willing to address the subject and the question went unanswered.

  Read popped out of the grey wall, tendrils of the mist trailing with him as he held his aching head.

  “Why did it only effect you two and the witches?” Cody asked, his eyes shifting between Read and me.

  Read gave his head a shake and suggested, “Maybe it was a range thing. I was the closest.”

  I nodded, accepting the theory. The rest had held back while Read hadn’t. “We have to kill the witches,” I said.

  “But they control the way out,” Claire protested.

  I shook my head.

  “Says who?” Phoebe asked and immediately seemed to regret it. “Ah,” she said, understanding.

  I tried to catch her eye, but she refused to look at me as I sidled to peer back into the black bubbles. Only the black shiny liquid reflected back at me.

  My shoulders slouched in disappointment. I wanted to see her, I realized. I wanted to let her know I was coming for her and she wasn’t alone. What did Atropos mean by “so brief“? And did Neive draw me here in the beginning? Before I could ponder the mysteries further, there was a high-pitched squeal overhead.

  “Into the fog!” I yelled, waving my arms towards the wall.

  Without hesitation, all six of us bolted for the heavy, clinging mist.

  As I plunged into the grey world, I heard Phoebe give out an order, her voice confident and commanding. “Hands!”

  I couldn’t even see my own hands until they were inches in front of my face. I staggered forward, groping for bodies, and my hip rocked into a hard headstone. If it wasn’t for the two hands that caught my right arm, I would have flipped completely around and lost my direction.

  “Who is this?” Joel barked.

  “Nora,” I answered.

  “I got you too, Nora,” Cody said, tugging at my shirt.

  With my free hand, I took the fingers closest to my wrist.

  A flurry of voices rang out as we clumsily tried to organize ourselves.

  Satisfied that everyone was accounted for, Joel yanked me along in a jog. I tugged at Cody, who easily kept up.

  “Did anyone grab the salt?” Cody whispered behind me.

  Joel grunted ahead of me.

  “Is that a yes?” Cody asked after a long pause.

  Joel sighed as if he couldn’t be bothered.

  I whispered to Cody, “I think so.”

  After several painstaking minutes, I realized I was able to see my arm, then Joel’s arm, then his shoulder. “The fog,” I hissed. “It’s getting lighter.”

  “Maybe we’re close to the door,” Cody suggested, hope clinging to his voice like the mist to my hair.

  “Or,” Joel said, “maybe it’s the witches, so shut up.”

  He had a point. They could be lightening the fog to find us. I waited, keeping pace until I could see Joel leading us. He had salt in one hand and my wrist in the other. Behind Cody, I could make out Claire in the mist.

  Our steps quickened between the tight rows of tombstones.

  Joel came to an abrupt stop.

  Cramping together one after another, we poked our heads out from behind our leader to see Atropos blocking the path.

  Her slow creeping smile revealed rows of crooked teeth. “We are not done,” she protested in a disturbing basso tone.

  From behind, Claire let an ear-achingly, high-pitched scream.

  Jolting, Joel released my arm when Claire’s voice twisted into muffled sobs. It took only an instant to turn around, but in that time Lachesis, who had flanked us from the right, had somehow silenced Claire.

  Wide-eyed, I stared at Claire in horror.

  Her full lips had lost their plumpness, melting down her face. The rosy lip-color combined with her porcelain skin in a grotesque mixture.

  Claire moved her jaw as if to scream, but the oozing flesh muffled it to a pathetic mewling.

  Tears sprung from her eyes, and shaky hands reached for her lips. The moment she touched the deformity, her fingertips came away with the pink color of her lip smeared on her fingertip. Claire looked to us, seeing the horror reflected back, and tried to scream, her hands flapping as if to fly away. She backed away, her muffled shrieks eventually winding her. With only her nostrils for breath, she dropped to her knees in the grass.

  Stricken, Joel, like the rest of us, only stared until Claire fell to the ground, humiliated.

  Read knelt next to her first, but she shook him away when he tried to help her up.

  The salt bag was canvas. If it were left with me, I’d have never been able to open it. However, Joel made it look easy. He had the bag open in one yank, some of the white grains spilling out of the jagged tear. He reached in and tossed a handful at Lachesis in one fluid motion.

  The instant it hit her, she reacted.

  Flinging her plump arms up, she never saw Phoebe coming.

  Bolting forward, Phoebe tackled the witch. Read joined her, helping her drag the flailing witch to the ground.

  At the same time, I turned my attention to Atropos, who appeared ready to say something when I ran at her.

  Ripping free of Cody’s grasp, I caught Atropos off-guard. I wrapped my arms around her waist, and we tumbled to the ground together.

  “The ring!” I heard Co
dy’s voice.

  Atropos grabbed a handful of my hair when I tried to look over my shoulder. I only caught a glimpse of Cody as he snagged Clotho before she could dart back into the surrounding mist.

  Joel yanked Clotho from Cody’s grasp, sending the red witch rolling on the ground.

  “Stop them!” Atropos commanded, yanking my head to the side.

  Yelling in protest, I swung blindly. Miraculously, I struck her, though not as hard as I’d have liked. My knuckles rapped against her temple, sending pain streaking through my fingers. I wasn’t a fighter, never been in a real fistfight before. It seemed I would be getting my first taste.

  Despite my pain, I had managed to inflict more on Atropos. Her eyes rolled up until all I could see were the whites of her eyes. Encouraged by my success, I swung my left and less coordinated hand. This, unfortunately, did me little good. Atropos had recovered, her gnarly crooked fingers clawing at my wrists.

  I managed to keep my right hand free long enough to remember something a friend once told me. He had said when throwing a punch to pretend you were hitting the back of a person’s head; otherwise, the strike would be less powerful. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I tried. Aiming for the ground, I used my body’s momentum.

  I hit Atropos square in the nose. The strike hurt, and I reeled back as black blood flowed from Atropos’s nostrils. My knuckles throbbed as I straightened my fingers to try and cure the discomfort.

  With my right side open, Atropos swatted in a blistering open-palmed slap. The sting reminded me of Damien, then of Neive’s screams, the sounds combining to stoke my rage.

  Straddling Atropos’s waist, I went wild, hitting at her even if it did little to no damage in the process. In my frenzy, she barely had a chance to defend herself.

  I heard wheezing behind me just as Joel fell hard. His face was purple, and his mouth gaped, breathless. Still in his grip was the salt. It spilled out over the ground on impact.

  Atropos hit me with a bony, powerful punch to my jaw.

  Taken off guard, I lost my balance, and Atropos wiggled free from under me.