Chapter 17
(June 29-30, 1854)
Mr. Mitcham stared at them, not understanding why the group had been together so late at night, or why they carried Mr. Parks through the front door.
“Daphne, Minora, clear the dining table,” Petula said as she burst into the house. The women rushed by her into the dining room. “Get him on the table.” She stared into Elise’s eyes, finding a dark sorrow building. “Roland, fetch Dr. Avery.”
Jumping into his boots near the door, he then ran out of the house and into the night.
“Sylvie, please fetch some sheets and towels from the linen closet upstairs.” Petula’s tone became sweet and her volume dropped as she approached Elise. “Would you like privacy while you undress him?”
“Only if you and the others are squeamish.” Elise’s trembling fingers unbuttoned his coat and shirt, she glanced at Petula, thankful for woman. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ll need help.”
“Of course.” Petula nodded to Daphne, Minora, and Felicity. “If you’re unafraid of seeing mortal wounds and a man without clothing, stay, otherwise…” None of the women moved. “Felicity, there should be a pot on the stove, please run outside and fill it with water. We need to get these wounds cleaned.” The young woman’s eyes widened. Understanding her fear of what lurked in the darkness, she added, “Daphne, please help her. The pot is heavy enough when it’s empty.” The women disappeared through the swinging door. “Minora, his boots.”
Elise was relieved that Petula was bossy, it made it easier for her to care for Conrad. Margaret kept herself from smirking, listening to the woman tell the others what to do as she helped Elise remove the man’s coat and shirt.
“Is there warm water in the kettle?” Elise asked.
Before Petula could answer, Sylvie clomped down the stairs with sheets and towels piled in her arms, and the front door burst open. Mr. Mitcham led Dr. Avery inside after Sylvie entered the dining room.
“What the hell happened?” the doctor asked, aghast at the lacerations.
“Bear attack,” Petula answered, her tone grave and hushed. Margaret shook her head, dismissing herself to the kitchen to investigate the kettle. “The girls and I had just finished our Bible Study at the Church, when we heard growls and screams.”
“Pretty late for that, isn’t it?” Dr. Avery said as Margaret returned to the room with Daphne and Felicity in tow.
Petula gave him a sharp look. “They’ve been awful this year.”
He approached Conrad. “Rip those sheets into strips.” His attention moved to Sylvie, then to Elise and Margaret, unsure if he bought Petula’s story. “I didn’t see your wagon outside.”
“Conrad parked it down the road,” Elise said.
Nothing further was said about how Conrad had come to be harmed. The doctor checked each wound after Elise cleaned them, then had Sylvie dress them, directing her to make them secure, but not too tight.
“I wouldn’t move him tonight,” Dr. Avery said, after he’d completed his appraisal. “Let him rest, then get him home, and make him comfortable.” He was amazed at how the women present hadn’t shed a tear or winced. “Good thing you know about making poultices,” he said to Elise. “Make sure you keep them fresh every three to four hours, don’t want him getting an infection.”
The clock in the foyer struck three, and Dr. Avery said his farewells.
“Your families must be worried sick,” Elise said.
“We told them we’d be late with Petula at Church,” Minora said. “They know we planned to stay here for the night.”
“Oh?” Elise glanced at Margaret, amazed on how easy it was for these women to lie. “Well I guess that makes a few more for the slumber party.” She forced herself to smile, though she was terrified for her husband.
“Daphne, would you bring a chair from near the fire for Elise. I can’t imagine that she’ll want to leave Mr. Parks’ side.”
“Thank you,” Elise said, again seeing kindness in a woman she’d only seen treachery.
Roland returned inside from securing Conrad’s wagon and horses.
“And you?” Petula turned to Margaret. “Is Mr. Lozier all right with you being away from his side for so long?”
“He is, but I should be going, he’ll want to know what’s happened.”
“I can take you,” Mr. Mitcham volunteered, hoping to have a moment alone with someone who would give him an honest account of the night’s events.
“That is kind of you,” Margaret said. “But it isn’t far.” Her gaze found Elise sitting rigidly in the chair Daphne had dragged into the dining room. “I’ll come back tomorrow. I know you won’t, but I need you to get some rest. You need to be strong for him.”
“I’ll try.” Elise looked away from Conrad a moment. “You should do the same.”
Elise sat in silence and shadow after Petula had extinguished the gas lamps on the walls, leaving one on the sideboard burning. She closed her eyes, not wishing to find sleep, but relief from the stress.
Chapter 68
(June 24, 2017)
Chloe crossed the room behind the sofa to the kitchen door, holding it open, her heart fluttering with anxiety.
Claire stood at the window near the table.
Chloe was more startled than afraid to find the woman fixated on the world beyond the border of glass.
When the woman gave no sign that she was aware of Chloe’s presence, the girl moved around the island to the sink, the door swinging closed behind her.
“Hi, Claire.” Chloe turned on the faucet with a towel under the cool stream. “I didn’t know you were downstairs.”
The woman turned her face toward Chloe, her body unmoving.
The darkness enveloping her eyes was disconcerting, but Chloe didn’t look away, wanting to see the woman outside of the mirror, finding her more attractive without the silvery glow of the mirror world distracting from her details.
Her golden hair was a pile of looping curls on top of her head. Her skin was smooth, and dark-pink lipstick accentuated her lips. Chloe imagined that her eyes were blue like Mason’s, cool, but warm with kindness and love.
“Why are you here?” Chloe’s tone remained even without a trace of fear as though she were having a conversation with her mom. “Do you know?”
“This is my house,” Claire said. “Even though my asinine brother sold it.”
Though the woman’s lips moved, Chloe only heard a sound like a soft breeze stroking the tips of wheat in a field.
Somehow Claire knew Chloe couldn’t hear her, and her lips pursed together in frustration.
She began speaking again, this time with more force, intensifying the breeze into a gust of wind shaking the windows, and causing the light over the island to flicker.
Cold water continued to run over the towel and Chloe’s hands, but she didn’t notice, all her mind could manage was focusing on the woman.
Claire’s body joined the direction of her head, and she gracefully approached Chloe, who tensed, wishing the woman to stay where she was. No longer able to look at her, Chloe focused on the shed in the backyard being slowly devoured by shadows stretching from the trees as the sun fell behind the mountain.
The water continued to flow over her hand and towel, and while it was cold, the frigidness emitting from the woman was no match. Frost etched in the corners of the window, melting, then reforming seconds later.
Though she didn’t want Claire to come any closer, Chloe made no protestation or any movement to be away from her. The thin reflection of the woman joined hers in the window, bending toward her ear.
“Darkness is coming,” the wispy voice said. “Be in your room before it comes. Don’t let it get you.”
Blake pushed open the door. “What’s ta…” His words froze in his throat as the ghostly woman’s attention moved to him.
In the living, Mason looked beyond Blake to the tableau in the kitchen. Jess noticed that he’d stiffened, following his stare at Blake holding the kitchen door, and Chloe at the sink.
Sharon moaned, pulling Jess’s attention back.
Mason joined Blake, but Jess still didn’t know why.
“It’s all right, buddy.” Mason gave Blake’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Go back with your mom, I’ll check on Chloe.”
Blake grumbled, wanting to stay, but didn’t disobey.
Mason paid little attention to the specter next to Chloe as he came up beside her at the sink, but his mother scrutinized him as she had done in the mirror.
Chloe was calm, which he hadn’t expected. “She sounds so sad, and afraid.”
“You can hear her?” Mason regarded his mom.
“Only when she got close.” Chloe dropped the towel into the sink, and put her arms around Mason, giving him an unobstructed view of his mom. The warmth of their bodies offsetting the chill in the room.
He fought back tears threatening to fall. He’d missed her so much but seeing her now filled him with dismay, not wanting to remember her eyes as dark pits. She should’ve moved on to wherever souls go when people die.
Chloe released her hold on Mason, and he took the towel from the sink. Wringing it out, he handed it to her. “Take this to your mom.”
With the towel in hand, she slipped passed him without looking back.
Claire wished she could hug him the way the girl had, to take him in her arms and beg for forgiveness, to feel the warmth of his breath, to hear the strong tempo of his heart.
Mason moved to where Chloe had stood, staring into the backyard. “You were right. I shouldn’t have broken the rules, it ruined my life.”
Claire’s mouth turned down in what Mason took as sadness, but without being able to see her eyes, he couldn’t confirm.
Raising a hand, she stroked his cheek, wishing to catch the tear that had escaped his eye.
“Don’t forget your curfew!” she demanded.
His eyes widened, and he glanced at the clock on the coffee machine reading 7:33PM. “Is it because of the thing making the noise?”
“Yes, it will kill you, like it did your sister.”
“What is it?”
“Evil!”
Mason closed his eyes.
Claire wanted to do the same, but she couldn’t. She had to stay alert, especially now that it no longer kept to its schedule. Clicking turned her attention to the door leading to the hallway, taking her away from her son.
When he opened his eyes, she was gone, and the room warmed around him to a comfortable seventy-three degrees.
Chapter 1
(June 13, 1854)
She woke in the night, sitting up, eyes darting around the darkened room, the only light coming from the stars and the moon. She didn’t know what had woken her as it hadn’t her husband lying next to her in bed, his snores subtle.
Unfamiliar sounds came from the open window, unlike night birds chirping or frogs croaking in the wetlands. She strained to identify what had awoken her. Unsure if it was something scratching a rock, or something else. No, it was closer to the commotion a woodpecker made when it pecked through bark, searching for bugs or carving out a home, but, still, different.
Curious, she pulled away the blankets, glancing at her husband, hoping he’d awoken, too, so she wouldn’t be the only one suffering the uncomfortable call, but nothing had disturbed him. Her feet found the bearskin rug at the edge of the bed, and she cautiously ventured to the window, peering into the night.
The landscape was bright with the full moon filling the woods, and she quickly shifted her eyes through the trees, but not seeing anything to cause alarm.
The creek babbled softly, mixing with the disturbance, trying to distract her from her quest of finding what caused the sound. She detected no squirrels frolicking in the branches, no mice or rabbits darting across the leaf strewn forest floor, and no birds or bats fluttering in the air.
The sound grew stronger, giving her the impression that unseen claws clicked at the soil and tree trunks as it, whatever it was, made its journey through the woods. Then the sound stopped, leaving only the creek to play its music.
She trembled, and she crossed her arms in front of her full bosom, rubbing the skin hidden beneath the layer of her cotton nightgown.
A slight movement caught her attention, freezing the motion of her hands. Straining her eyes in the meager light, she focused on the spot, but nothing further gave her cause to continue her stare into the night.
Her gaze dropped lower to the ground, finding an eerie darkness, thicker than the other shadows. It undulated, washing across the ground to the clearing bordering the house, causing her to think of a thousand snakes writhing together.
A frown came with the thought, then she gasped as the clicking erupted again, louder, like many people popping their knuckles simultaneously, but still the description didn’t give justice to what she heard.
Her heart sped up its pace with the darkness swirling in eddies like a breeze churned its surface though the air was calm. Her hands reached to the top of the sash to pull the window closed as the haze shifted into a column, dark and thick, not allowing her eyes to penetrate its core.
The window stuck in its track. She focused on the black shape as it transformed into a human form taller than her house as her hands fought the sash, slapping at it with her palms, trying to release it. Even with her fear filled sobs and banging on the window frame, her husband continued to sleep.
The giant came closer, moving steadily toward the house. In her terror, she managed to free the window, and it slid down, but not before a hand swirling with storm clouds reached through the opening, grabbing her wrist.
The power of lightning surged through her, shaking her. She didn’t scream, she couldn’t, her throat was constricted. The torment filling her ended as abruptly as it had begun, and she gasped for air.
She woke from a daze, wondering why she stood at the window, glancing across the yard to the trees. The glow of the moon caused dew to twinkle on the ground and trees. The window was closed, making the room feel stuffy. She pushed the sash up, then traipsed back to bed.
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