Thursday, 23 May 2019, Late Afternoon
Paxwood, Whatcom County, Washington, USA
Eyewitness: Kerry
I didn’t dismiss the dark miasma as I pulled up to the gate on my bicycle. It emanated from the house, spreading upward and outward toward the boundary walls that could barely contain it, a leaking faucet of gloom. Now that I knew what I was looking at, I wondered how I’d ever ignored it. How many other prickling goosebumps had I dismissed when I should have been more cautious?
Mx. Cardoso was already there, a brown leather satchel slung over their shoulder. They stared up at the house with lips pressed together.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“It’s getting worse. I half wonder if it would be better for everyone in this town if we just set the whole place on fire.” They gave me a sideways glance. “How’s that shield of yours?”
I held up the quartz bracelet, the stones still colorful around my wrist. “I’ve been keeping it on my windowsill at night. Figure it’s better to be proactive, right?”
They nodded, approving, then pulled a tuning fork out from their bag. “Carry this for me. Any time it starts to go quiet, tap it so that it continues to resonate. I’ll be using the sound to help identify the leaks and patch them up.”
“Is sealing it up a good idea, though?” I asked. “If it builds up too much, will it burst?”
“You heard of the Sandman Flu?” Mx. Cardoso walked ahead, twisting their fingers in the air in front of them as if they were tying together knots.
I nodded. “Local legend. A flu that causes the victim to fall into a coma, where their dreams slowly consume their souls.”
“Not a legend. One of my brothers almost died from it. This is where it emanates from. I do everything I can to keep it from spreading out and around the town.”
“Nellie and John Paxwood both died of the flu,” I realized.
“All of them did. It took every single Paxwood, and now their spirits pass it on whenever they can,” Mx. Cardoso confirmed. “I’ve been enhancing the natural barrier created by these walls since I came home from college. The aura naturally fluctuates and dissipates. Supernaturally, I suppose.”
“If Rowen gets the house, what happens? She has all these plans, but should she even be thinking about bringing people inside?” The resonating note of the tuning fork began fading, so I tapped it again.
“She’s got to find an exorcist. With her connections, she might even get one powerful enough to fully put the ghosts to rest,” Mx. Cardoso said. “But, honestly, even a powerful exorcist may need more information to deal with this mess. Most ghosts don’t cause infections. To me, that implies something more serious at work. An enchantment that was left behind, strengthened by their deaths. A demonic curse. I don’t know what. Death isn’t my area of expertise.”
“Could it be the sort of thing that would be hidden in a basement?” I asked, smirk growing. I couldn’t help it. Even if I didn’t know what the problem was, I had a pretty good idea where to look.
“Basements, attics, foundations, cavities in walls, crawl spaces, you never know what could be stashed away in an old haunted house.” Mx. Cardoso paused in their wizardly hand gestures. “Unless… you do?”
“I pulled up the blueprints for the house, every renovation dating back to when it first came into the city’s possession after the Paxwoods died. In every single one, there’s this void space in the basement, almost like someone just forgot to put something there on the map. Want to see?”
“Tuning fork,” Mx. Cardoso requested.
I tapped the tuning fork again, and they resumed magicking, but they didn’t answer my question. Instead, they concentrated on playing cat’s cradle with invisible string, and I did my best to curb my enthusiasm while I watched them work. When we came back around to the front gate, they held out a hand to take the tuning fork back.
“All right. You’ve got a map?” they asked, expression resolved.
I pulled all the blueprints out and showed them what I was talking about, ending with the newest. “And I’m pretty sure this space is where the ghosts took me, too.”
“Adrien saved you from there.” Mx. Cardoso hummed, looked skyward, glanced down at the analog watch on their wrist. “All right, we have time. Let’s take a look.”
“Now?”
“We need every edge we can get if we’re going to deal with Silphium. They’re ahead of us with the dog. They’ve got that jewelry box, too, even if we came away with the glass cat. A quick in and out. Let’s see if this is a red herring or a Paxwood secret.”
“But… magical Chernobyl.”
Mx. Cardoso nodded. “Good. You’re weighing out all the potential dangers. It is a risk. Even if I’m a seventh son of a seventh son and I’ve got magic on my side, hauntings aren’t my specialty. But it’s daylight, and sunny, which typically puts the undead and the demonic alike at a disadvantage. Follow my lead, stay close, and we’ll investigate your theory.”
I stood there, balanced on a precipice between the knowledge of the dangers ahead and the pull of the story. This time, I wouldn’t be the blind leading the blind. I wouldn’t be alone, either. Mx. Cardoso knew the world of magic, and I had a map. I straightened my shoulders and smiled.
“All right, then.”
We crossed the crumbled wall, then approached the delivery door that opened straight into the kitchen. Mx. Cardoso murmured a few soft words over the locked door, and it gave an audible click. Nothing to it but a little magic.
“Can you just… break into any lock?”
“Only basic mundane ones,” Mx. Cardoso said. “If someone could use a bump key or force the lock, I might get through. Some locations have innate protection against magical invasion, like occupied homes and religious buildings. A handful of locksmiths are also mages, and they’ll add magical protection without telling normal folks about it. Magical safecracking is a complex skill.”
“Death, ghosts, and locks aren’t your areas of expertise,” I observed. “What is?”
“Protection, enchantment, identification, analysis,” Mx. Cardoso said. “Figuring out how things work and how to make them better. I love cars and shop class for a reason, you know.”
As we talked, we moved through the dark kitchen, across the hall, down the basement stairwell. Mx. Cardoso lifted a hand, snapped a finger, and made a floating light appear above his head. With a twist of his wrist, he adjusted the brightness so that its warm orange-tinted glow dispelled the shadows around us.
The basement stairs opened into the vast cellar space, with its cemented floor and cinder brick walls. I held the map out for Mx. Cardoso and I both to study together.
“There’s the void space,” I said, pointing at the map. When I looked up, though, the basement seemed open, rectangular, complete. “But… I don’t… see it?”
Mx. Cardoso chuckled. “Oh. That is clever. Love a good obfuscation spell. It’s like the one I used in the diner, but visual instead of audio. Right over there. Look and keep looking. Don’t accept what you see at first glance.”
They touched my shoulder and gently turned me in the right direction. At first, I wanted to object. There was nothing there, and no amount of looking would make anything appear. But then, the corner of the cellar flipped like an optical illusion. What had seemed like an open corner became a walled off space with…
The door.
That was the door that had slammed shut when Bast rescued me from the Paxwood Ladies and Adrien rescued me from the Paxwood Dog. As I walked up to the door, I noticed one more thing about it.
“This engraving is the same as on the jewelry box,” I said.
Mx. Cardoso kept pace with me. “No door handle. It’s almost definitely sealed by magic, so my bump key spell won’t work here.”
“This is going to sound weird, but do you have a magnet?”
“Magnets are surprisingly useful.” Mx. Cardoso fished out a silvery neodymium bar from their satchel and offered it to me.
I explained how we opened up the hidden compartment in the box as I ran the magnet along the surface of the door.
“And there!” I felt the magnet grab close to the right edge of the door, and I pulled it along the path I’d traced on that jewelry box, the route the Paxwoods had taken traveling from the East Coast out to what was then the Washington territory. All along the way, I could feel the powerful magnet pulling something inside the door, until I reached the end of the path, and the door sighed open.
Sigh was the only word for it. There was no click, no creak, and it wasn’t the soft swish some doors make as they slide along the floor. No, the air on the other side of the door came through the opening like an exhaled breath.
“Is it safe?” I asked.
Mx. Cardoso shook their head. “We’re talking about a secret room in a haunted house. It’s not safe. It’s a reasonable time to turn back, but if you’ll help keep watch, I’ll go through first. Anything happens, you get help.”
“You’re really leaving it up to me?” I frowned. “That’s not fair. You’re the one who knows what you’re doing. You should be the one who makes the call.”
“I’m leaving it up to you because I will not make you go anywhere dangerous. Any time you want to head back, I’ll get you to safety.” Mx. Cardoso touched my shoulder. “You have the research, the map, the question. I’m here with you. Are you ready to go through?”
When they put it that way, I understood. Mx. Cardoso wasn’t testing me or pushing me. They weren’t trying to put me into a situation where I had to make the right choice. Whether we passed through that door together or headed back upstairs, they would still be there for me.
Yes, it was dangerous. I’d already experienced some of the danger. So, did the story matter more than my safety?
“Let’s go.”
