Thursday, 23 May 2019, Evening
Paxwood, Whatcom County, Washington, USA
Eyewitness: Kerry
By the time I got home from my latest Paxwood House adventure, it was only 6:30 and light outside, though the shadows were long and the evening air still held a chill on these late spring days. No surprise, my mother wasn’t home for dinner. Since my father was still on his business trip, and he likely wouldn’t be back at this point until after Memorial Day weekend, I’d be having dinner alone.
The sharpest dagger of all in the silence? My mother had left my car key out on the counter with a note: “You can take the car on Memorial Day. Have fun with Char in Bellingham :)”
Lying to my mother to spend time with Char under the new moon got me in hot water. I’d done so much to get back in my mother’s good graces, helping her with opposition research so I could get the car back. My whole plan had been to take Char out for a day in the city and actually tell her how I felt.
And yet, I’d completely ruined everything with Char.
I did not cry as I made myself a grilled chicken salad for dinner, but the salad was admittedly a form of self-flagellation.
I mean, what teenager would ever choose to eat salad for dinner willingly when they have full fridge access and pizza was, in fact, an option?
Only a teenager who felt they didn’t deserve the pizza.
I was done with dinner and loading the dishwasher by eight, when my phone rang. The number was in my contact list as “Muso Residence.” Sometimes, if her phone had died or the home phone was closer at reach, Char would call from her family’s landline.
I answered with raw hope. “Char?”
“Kerry, this is Char’s father,” came the answer. “I guess that answers my question. Char isn’t with you?”
“She’s… not,” I confirmed, confused. “Last time I talked with her was during lunch today. Is she not home?”
“She’s not, and her phone is going straight to voicemail.” Worry filled his tone.
“She’s been spending time with a few other students lately,” I said, trying not to spin out. “She might be with one of them. I can give you their names and contact info. Is text or email better?”
“I’d rather have that in email, if it’s not too much trouble.” He sounded relieved. “She’s been acting a little differently lately, but I suppose that’s understandable. First time she’s ever had a big injury like this. It’s probably nothing serious, but it is my job to worry.”
“I’ll send you that email. Please let me know if I can do anything else, and I’ll call back if I hear from her,” I said, forcing cheer into my tone.
As I put together a list of contacts for Char’s dad using the resources I had at my disposal, my mind whirled around so many details, all slamming one into the next. I wasn’t the only one who noticed Char was behaving differently. Her father thought so, too. Mx. Cardoso noted she hadn’t been coming in like she used to. But all these things might just be mundane, an emotional reaction to a broken arm. Like Mx. Cardoso had pointed out when I wondered if my mom was possessed, sometimes people behaved differently than you might expect them to, and it wasn’t necessarily a paranormal problem.
There were plenty of stories of witch hunts that turned communities against each other when the only real threat was mob mentality and moral panic. The Salem Witch Trials, the Red Scare, the Lavender Scare, Satanic Panic. Over and over and over again, people found problems where they looked, not because a problem existed, but because they wanted someone else to be the problem.
Yes, Char broke her arm in a haunted house. And, yes, Paxwood’s paranormal tendencies were real. But after she broke her arm, she didn’t have any interactions with the Paxwoods or the house at all.
Well, except the necklace I sent her from Tristan’s Antiques with Sly’s encouragement. But that wasn’t a confirmed Paxwood artifact or anything. Sly said there was no way of proving its provenance. It was like the cameo necklaces common to the time, and that was all.
I hit send on the email and tried to sit back and relax, but now my mind was snagging on Sly.
Sly in the library, with Luella’s journal.
In my browser, I switched from my email to the library’s online database. It listed the historical texts the library owned and specified they were for in-library-use only. If Luella’s diary was in the collection, it would be there.
It wasn’t.
Then there was the day with the jewelry box.
The timing of Hugh’s arrival.
When Sly texted me to tell me Anholts would be at Paxwood House, and then the ghosts came for me and dragged me into their demesne.
Before I went to meet Mx. Cardoso at Paxwood House, I’d texted Sly, and then Anholts showed up.
Threads that could mean nothing at all wove together in my mind. Every time my mind snagged on threads like this, it became a web that held me until I figured it out or something else broke me free.
Eight now, and the antiques store didn’t close until nine. If she was working tonight, I’d catch her there. Especially now that I had the car.
I texted her: Working tonight?
She replied: Until closing.
I didn’t bother replying. I grabbed the keys and drove out, hoping that I was wrong. That all of this was a silly conspiracy. A witch hunt. Looking for a supernatural problem where Char was really just being a teenager hanging out with other teenagers, and she’d be home any time now. Sly might live with the same foster father as Tricia Anholts did, but that didn’t automatically mean they were all working together to forward dark demonic causes.
This late, on a weeknight, pre-Memorial Day, the row of shops had plenty of open street parking. I slipped into a spot right in front of Tristan’s Antiques and headed through the door. The chime sounded.
“We’re closing soon,” Sly called out from the far end of the shop. She had a broom in hand, sweeping up the day’s debris. When she looked up from her work and saw me, she smiled. “Oh, hey, Kerry. You could have said you were going to come by.”
“When I first met you, you gave me Luella Paxwood’s own journal, but… it’s not actually part of the library collection,” I said. “Was it something you found here in the shop?”
Sly laughed. “Oh, yeah, suppose it was, now that you mention it. Bet the library’s glad they got to add it to their collection for free.”
“But they don’t even know it’s there. Does Mr. Tristan know it’s gone?” I didn’t mean to sound so accusatory, but my building suspicions heated my voice.
“I asked if I could borrow it for my research project, and he said it was fine.” Sly set her broom aside and crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s going on, Kerry?”
Might as well get straight to the point, then. “When you told me that Tricia was at Paxwood House, did you know the Paxwood Ladies would try to sacrifice me to their demon lord?”
Sly leaned back. “I just thought you ought to know, since you were so interested in making sure she didn’t get the house.”
“I want to believe that, but…” I bit my lip, hesitating. “Char didn’t come home tonight. She’s been acting differently ever since I gave her the necklace. And there’s this little thought gnawing away at me that maybe you knew that necklace really was tied to the Paxwoods and they’re using it to influence her. Since Anholts couldn’t sacrifice me, you set up someone who’d be a little easier.”
“Come on, Kerry, you were hurting about how your friend wasn’t talking to you, and I wanted to help.” Sly shook her head. She uncrossed her arms and twisted her wrists slightly, like she was talking with her hands, pointing toward me. “Sounds like you can’t accept that she just doesn’t like you the way you like her, and you’re trying to take it out on me.”
Against my wrist, I felt the quartz bracelet growing suddenly warm. When I held it up in front of me, I saw it was literally glowing. “You’re trying to do something to me!”
Sly sighed, dropping her hands. Then she smiled, but not her friendly smile. This was the grin of a predator baring her teeth. “That mage really has taken you on like an apprentice. See, now I’m curious. Was the journal really the first domino that broke my cover?”
“It wasn’t any one thing. It was… everything. I don’t know.” I took a step backward, realizing I’d come here without help. “Where’s Char?”
“If I told you your friend will be just fine, you wouldn’t believe me,” Sly replied, “and I’m not about to tell you the truth, but you’ll figure it out.” She said one of those harsh, burning words, and I held my hands up in front of me almost reflexively.
The quartz crystal beads around my wrist shattered as something hit me. Whatever it was, they absorbed the blow—and it was too much for the enchanted bracelet to bear.
I turned on my heel and ran out the door, into my car, peeling away in panic. I was only a couple of blocks from the bed-and-breakfast where Rowen was staying, so I made that my next stop.
Once I parked, I texted Rowen to meet me on the porch, and she replied that she’d be there in a minute. In the cool evening air, I watched the sun fade, my heart broken.
Char was in danger because of me. I never questioned, for a second, what Sly presented to me as truth.
When Rowen appeared, she looked me up and down, her eyebrows furrowed, lips tight.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I can’t do this. Char… Char’s missing. And. I think it’s my fault. Sly was working with Tricia the whole time. She tried to get me killed, and now because I trusted Sly, Char’s probably getting sacrificed to a demon in the Paxwood House right now. I can’t… I’m not… There’s nothing special about me. I have nothing but curiosity, and curiosity kills cats, and…”
“And you’re young with a whole life ahead of you.” Rowen pulled me into a one-armed hug, and I cried into her shoulder. “Sounds like you’ve had a day. Thank you for trusting me, for coming to me with this. We’ll talk about how special you are later. For now, go home. Rest. I’ll take care of it.”
“Adrien is in the hospital, and Mx. Cardoso’s magic is completely drained, and if you go, you could get hurt, too.” I pulled back, shaking my head. “It’s all my fault.”
“We can talk about whose fault it is later, too,” Rowen said. “How confident are you that Char’s at the house right now?”
I showed Rowen the broken bracelet and caught her up with Sly’s confession. “Pretty sure.”
“Got it. She’ll be home before you know it.” Rowen was resolved, and as she straightened herself in front of me, giving me that direct eye contact, she projected the sense that everything would be okay.
That was what it meant to be a Chosen One, to step up and shoulder someone else’s problem and leave them feeling like they could breathe again. As she started up her car, I headed for mine, and I sat behind the wheel, crying. I could never, would never, have that strength. I could get people in trouble, but that was all. That was where my involvement ended.
