The Haunting of Cragg Hill House

by Elyse Salpeter

  Okay, he doesn’t see it. Only I can. The woman’s image was doubled, just like Pago’s was. Not the man’s next to her, just the woman’s.

  What is going on at Cragg Hill House?

  The workers glanced at each other and then strolled casually over to them. “Some storm, eh? Having a nice stay?” the man asked.

  “Sure is, and we are,” Desmond replied to both questions.

  Kelsey just stared at the woman, who was returning double concerned looks. Kelsey took a hesitant step closer, and could swear she felt something stir in the air stir between them. A malevolence, ominous and menacing. It was the same feeling she’d felt in the dining hall when she felt a breeze brush by her. Worse? It suddenly felt familiar.

  The woman’s eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing. Her companion didn’t seem to notice this exchange and kept chattering on. He was older than Tooh and Pago but spoke with the same accent, though the large gap in his front teeth was by far the most distinguishing physical difference between them. “I am Malacki and this is my sister, Roselyn. You may have met my cousins Tooh and Pago. Pampered pansy boys who work inside the hotel to earn their keep. Not a callous on either of their baby-smooth hands, I tell you. Wouldn’t know hard work if it bit them in the behind.”

  Desmond stared over the man’s shoulder. “Hey, is that where you and the other staff live? Elsa mentioned you live off to the side of the property. It’s beautiful.”

  Malacki craned his head to look and nodded, and Kelsey now noticed a smaller version of the gothic Victorian mountain house peeking through the trees. It was stunning, and though modeled upon the hotel, it was colored differently, with textured green shingles mixed with a red brick façade. The building also had the same extensive detailing on the trusses and gabled ends. A large wraparound porch stretched the length of the mini-mansion and snow- dusted rocking chairs were scattered about.

  “It is. We’re very lucky,” Malacki said. “Not many extended families get a chance to work and live together, but the Craggs have been so generous. When our families relocated from Papua New Guinea, we were able to bring both our loved ones and our culture with us.”

  Roselyn tilted her head. “Well, not all of it, Malacki. We have made some changes, you know.”

  He smirked and jutted his chin at her. “This is what happens when you take women and bring them to America. They become feminists and forget their place in the old world.”

  Roselyn smacked his arm and then returned her two doubled hands to her two pockets, but not before Kelsey had a chance to notice that her missing finger was a relatively new injury. It was still red and raw at the edges and the woman winced when she placed her hand in her pocket.

  “Are you… okay?” Kelsey asked her.

  Roselyn seemed to hesitate as if she were listening to something. Then she simply smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. I had an unfortunate accident in the kitchen last week, that’s all. Thank you for asking.” She turned to her brother. “As for my brother and his ridiculous comments, back home in Papua New Guinea, the men in our tribes had a very patriarchal culture. All the boys over eight years of age were removed from their families and lived together, isolated from the women. That, of course, bred a mentality of division between the sexes.”

  Malacki leaned towards Desmond, conspiratorially. “As well it should, because women pollute us with their feminine powers, you know.”

  Roselyn pursed her lips and shook her head. “You’re ridiculous. It’s a good thing that things change, Malacki. If we were still back home in Papua New Guinea your manhood ceremony would have included bloodletting, caning and vomiting. I think you lucked out us coming to America. All you have to do here is listen to your sister.” She turned to Kelsey and Desmond. “Hotel guests are free to roam around the property wherever they’d like, though please be careful not to go off the trails. It’s not safe in these mountains and we wouldn’t want you to get lost. Especially not with another storm expected to arrive in just a few hours.”

  Malacki glanced at the sky. “She’s right. You probably have until the late afternoon, but take care as it gets dark here early. Now if you’ll excuse us, I have some work to do on the property before the storm hits again, and Roselyn has to tend to dinner preparations in the kitchen. Hopefully without losing a finger this time.” He snickered and Roselyn smacked his arm again, with her good hand, in exasperation.

  They said their goodbyes and Kelsey watched them move on their way towards the main house. Roselyn’s image continued to be doubled the entire way and when the Papua New Guinean woman turned back once to look at them, Kelsey got shivers. Even from this distance, Kelsey could see Roselyn purse her lips and then follow Malacki around a bend in the path.

  Desmond and Kelsey continued their stroll past the workers quarters and towards the end of the property, stopping only when their path ended in a three-foot wall of snow.

  They stood there for a moment. “So, you want to talk about it?” Desmond coaxed. “I know something’s troubling you.”

  Kelsey blew out a harsh breath. She did need to talk about it. “That woman’s image was doubled, just like Pago’s was doubled the night before. Something’s wrong with me, Desmond. Or I’m seeing something important and I don’t know what it means.”

  He stared at her and she knew he was finally concerned. The events over the past year and a half would have gotten the best of anyone. Maybe he was worried she would finally crack. First the fight against her father in Xanadu, then finding out about her family secrets in Egypt and a brother she never knew she had, and then stopping a kidnapper in Alaska and halting a Devic War. Not to mention that most people would still be processing the murder of their parents and their own physical assault, well into their adult years. And the baby. It was enough to bring men stronger than her to their very knees.

  Desmond took her arms in his. “Maybe you’re still recovering from your trip from Aihika, Kelsey. Maybe there’s some residual things happening to you that haven’t settled down yet. You told me you feel things more deeply since you came home. Maybe you’re just in tune with these people more?”

  “Maybe, but why would their images be doubled?” And why did she hear someone screaming in her head when Pago touched her? Was he possessed? Nothing in Kelsey’s Buddhist teachings taught her about possession. Demons and evil spirits, yes. But possession?

  “I don’t know,” Desmond said. “But I’ll bet there’s an explanation we just haven’t figured out yet. I know how hard it was for you coming home and trying to get acclimated to your Earthly life again. Being a god is a pretty big deal. Most people wouldn’t have wanted to come home after experiencing that.” He reached out and placed a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear and tucked it under her cap. “But I’m glad you did.”

  But it was hard, Des. It’s still hard. I could get drunk on that power. “I’m glad I’m home, too. You’re the reason for that, you know.”

  He kissed her. “And I’m thankful for that. Look, maybe this is an isolated incident? Now that you’re just human, perhaps you simply need to get used to that again?”

  Just human? Um, I kind of still am a god. Well, if I wanted to be. Kelsey cringed when that pompous thought popped into her head. She had to remember not to think like that. Not to think she was better than everyone else on this planet. On Earth, in this lifetime, she was now just a regular girl. Or mostly regular. A human. Those brash thoughts of superiority were her spiritual identity boasting of the powers she could have if she’d give up this life and simply move to another realm. It would be as easy as breathing to do so.

  Focus, Kelsey. Remember who you are and who you want to be. “Desmond, isolated incidents mean one time. I’ve seen the doubling now with two different people, and it’s consistent. Something is going on with them specifically.” She peered at the wall of snow. “I guess we’re at the end of the line.”

  The back of Cragg Hill Mountain House stretched before them like a beacon standing alone at the end of the spraw
ling great back lawn. Though they couldn’t see it because it was covered with snow, the lawn contained a rectangular pool that opened for guests in the summer. There was also a set of tennis courts and a half basketball court, too, on the northern end of the property.

  Kelsey took a deep breath, basking in the fresh mountain air. From where she stood, she could make out the storage sheds hidden at the back end of the estate, housing everything from the kayaks for the lake to a host of other things that the spring and summer leaves normally covered. A greenhouse peeked out from behind the sheds and Kelsey could see inside the shadowy shapes of the large green plants. Ah, that’s where the flowers must come from. Everything seemed pristine and peaceful, an idyllic getaway, but deep in her core she felt something was off. She couldn’t tell for the life of her what it was, but it was something bad. As if there was a pall over the entire resort.

  The wind picked up and she sniffed the air. “Do you smell something?”

  Desmond inhaled deeply. “Yeah, what is it? Ham? Oh, they must be making lunch.”

  Kelsey frowned and turned towards the woods. “I don’t think so. It smells like it’s coming from over there at the back end of the property and not up at the mountain house.” She pointed past the wall of snow towards the forest. “What do you think is back there?”

  Desmond leaned towards her. “You know, I saw a shed with skis in it by the workers quarters. It’s not going to get dark for a few more hours.” He let that thought hang in the air teasingly.

  She read his mind, glad for the diversion, and they quickly made their way back to the shed. Each donned a set of skis and jumped off the path until they finally reached fresh snow. With their shoes laced and tossed over their shoulders, they cross-country skied across the property and swooped down the hill until the mountain house had disappeared from view.

  The woods were thick with evergreen trees, and the smell of pine was strong, but it couldn’t mask the scent of barbecue that occasionally wafted through the air when the wind was right. Kelsey wondered if there was a hidden restaurant on the mountain somewhere off the beaten path. Or maybe a little old lady in a cozy mountain cottage, cooking some massive stew from a freshly killed boar her husband had just caught.

  A memory of her mother, Margaret, suddenly came to her. Kelsey had been young. Maybe all of nine years old. Her mom had been kneeling on a woven mat, stirring their evening meal in a pot over the home’s fire pit in the woods of Tibet. Kelsey had just come in from picking flowers, and her mom had glanced up and smiled. That smile, along with the smells from dinner and the mountain air mingling together, was a memory she’d never forget.

  For a moment Kelsey’s heart became heavy. While the monks at the Bodhidharma Monastery ate a vegetarian diet, her father had occasionally caught a few marmots and her mother would cook them up as a treat. She closed her eyes, just letting the memory of her mother sit with her for a moment longer.

  “Kelsey, the smell is stronger now. It’s coming from someplace over there.”

  She pushed the memory aside and followed Desmond through a part of the forest where the trees were so thick they seemed to crowd out the sun. As a result, the snow was much less dense here and they removed their skis and changed back into their hiking boots. The woods were quiet and pristine, with nothing out of the ordinary, except for that odd scent. They followed it for what seemed like a long time.

  Desmond checked his watch and then glanced up. “We’ll have to find the source soon or we’ll have to head back. We’ve got about an hour and a half of daylight left. We’ll be cutting it close as it is.” Every twenty feet Desmond used his army knife to carve a small X in a tree to guide them back to the trail.

  Kelsey stopped him. “Wait, I think it’s coming from right over there. Look at that.” Kelsey pointed to a dilapidated wooden shack that sat alone in the middle of the forest. She glanced around, looking for a home or any other indication that there were people nearby who owned this ramshackle property, but there wasn’t any she could see.

  The shack was a creepy structure that reminded her of every photo she’d ever seen of a decrepit haunted dwelling. Sagging wood. Missing beams. The shed leaned precariously to one side. As she knew too well, run-down buildings like this always had a backstory. Just like the shack up in Dyea, Alaska, she’d seen with Rajiv Sitaula. The one where he’d been caught pouring the ashes of the willow ptarmigan bird on the floor of the dilapidated building. Or so he said. In all the ensuing tumult, they’d actually never gotten those bones tested. No backstories of abandoned shacks were ever good. She steeled herself for what she might find inside this one.

  “Hello?” Desmond called out. “Anyone here?” No one answered.

  The rickety building was nearly hidden by the snow. A snowdrift had crept up one side to nearly the top, and at least two feet of the white stuff rested on the sagging roof. The rest of the shack was clearly visible and it didn’t take an expert in construction to realize the cheap wooden slats had deteriorated so badly that this structure didn’t have long to last. The door had already fallen off and Kelsey could see its decomposing hulk lying against a tree a few feet away.

  But someone had apparently been here recently. A single set of large footprints, as if made from a man’s boots, could be seen leading to and from the shed.

  They crunched over the snow to the darkened entranceway and peeked inside. Kelsey ducked in and stopped abruptly. Her actions surprised Desmond so much he bumped right into her when he followed her inside. When he peered over her shoulder, he sucked in his breath. “What the hell?”

  They’d walked into an obvious place of worship. But here there was no comforting sound of organ music playing, pretty mosaics, or soothing words of comfort. The bones of dead animals littered the floor and the wide flat stump of a large tree was stained dark with what Kelsey felt certain was blood. The unmistakable old metallic and coppery scent of it mingled with the smell of cooked meat.

  The earthen floor had been swept clear of snow, though holes in the saggy ceiling let in flakes. She glanced at Desmond. The roof was mere inches from the top of his head.

  “What is this place, Kelsey?”

  She pursed her lips. “It’s some sort of temple.”

  He arched his brows. “But what kind?”

  “The kind that isn’t always good.” Tribal masks were heaped in the corners along with ceremonial flutes, straw hats, and necklaces beaded with rows of teeth. The entire place felt sinister and a deep foreboding developed in Kelsey’s gut. All of it seemed somehow too familiar and she wondered if an image of a past life would suddenly resurface. She waited, but nothing happened.

  A shallow pit had been dug in the center of the shed. It was filled with blackened rocks and charred embers of wood. Discarded banana leaves, frozen and dried out, covered the dirt where the fire hadn’t touched them. In the center of the rocks sat a rusted, metal cauldron the size of a large stew pot. Steam rose from it and Kelsey inched closer. The smell of cooked pork was strong and emanated from the vessel.

  Desmond scrunched his nose. “This doesn’t smell like lunch.”

  It was not nearly as enticing as it had seemed earlier and had an oily under-smell to it that she couldn’t quite identify.

  An odd sensation passed over her, and she felt a slight pop within her head. She put her hand to her forehead. What was that? A thought flickered in the back of her mind, momentarily so strong it made her dizzy, but then it drifted away.

  “You okay, Kelsey?”

  She nodded and raised her brows, when something suddenly caught her eye. She could swear it hadn’t been there a moment ago. She walked over to a corner and leaned down to grasp a small dagger, startled to see she recognized it. It was a Phurba dagger, with the traditional three stakes used in Buddhist rituals. Buddhist rituals? This temple looks nothing like anything in Buddhism I’ve seen before. Not even in so-called dark magic temples. What in the world is it doing here? This particular dagger was made of brass and had three blade poin
ts at its tip. Two of them were appealingly carved with skulls, and the final side was a Buddha head.

  She held the weapon out to Desmond. “Doesn’t this remind you of your Vajra weapon that you left behind in Aihika?”

  His nostrils flared. “You mean the weapon you swiped from my hands on the top of the mountain?”

  She ignored that remark.

  He took the Phurba dagger from her and examined it. “It’s not very sharp for a weapon. What is this kind used for?” He handed it back to her.

  “It’s actually not so much a weapon as a ritualistic tool to keep demons in place,” Kelsey said. “It’s quite powerful.”

  “Did you say, demons? Seriously, Kelsey. It’s amazing how things like this seem to follow you wherever you go.”

  She silently agreed.

  Desmond took a step and something crunched under his foot. He jumped back. The broken skull of a squirrel was now in fragments beneath his boots. So this must be a temple where they practiced animal sacrifice. That made sense now.

  Her thoughts turned to the Papua New Guinean workers up at Cragg Hill House. She knew that many sects in the Southwest Pacific region of the world held beliefs involving animal sacrifices. Kelsey wasn’t so naïve as to think the workers wouldn’t bring part of their ritualistic heritage here to the States, or disregard it just because they’d relocated. Now that she stared at the tribal masks, she recognized them as Oceanic artwork. The shape, materials, and where the specific eye slits in the masks were located gave the origin away. Except didn’t Tooh say he was specifically of the Fore tribe? Something about them lingered in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t place it. But what about the Phurba weapon? In Buddhism it was called Kila, but it wasn’t from Oceanic lore at all. It was influenced from ancient Hinduism. Even some Japanese cultures used something similar, so what was the connection? Why was it even here?

  She had to remember what the Emperor and Empress had taught her in Xanadu. Every religion was linked and they all flowed into one true path. It was just that humans each held different faiths and made different interpretations of the same events. But Kelsey knew where all of it eventually led.