Chapter 7 #2
“Protective charms, herbal remedies, and most importantly, records of the underground network.” Vivienne opened the grimoire, revealing pages filled with detailed maps and architectural notes.
“Mother added her own research here. She discovered that the price of using our gifts wasn’t death, as previous generations believed, but simply exhaustion that could be managed with proper rest and preparation. ”
The page detailed not symptoms of decline, but methods of strengthening one’s connection to the spiritual realm while maintaining physical health. Cordelia Hawthorne had documented successful techniques for channeling psychic energy without depleting herself.
The gift strengthens with understanding, rather than consuming us. Proper preparation and herbal supports allow us to help the dead find peace while maintaining our own wellbeing. This is the true Hawthorne legacy: not suffering, but service that sustains itself.
Brooks studied her face. “Your mother changed how your family understood their abilities.”
“She revolutionized them. Mathilde fled France not because she was cursed, but because her healing abilities threatened those in power. She came here to build something lasting, a place where wisdom could flourish instead of being suppressed.” Vivienne closed the grimoire, her hands steady and sure.
She withdrew Emmeline’s journal and opened it to the familiar page marked with a silk ribbon. “This is Emmeline’s account of the Aldrich family’s activities during Prohibition, as told to her by my great-grandmother Josephine, who witnessed them firsthand.”
Brooks accepted the journal with care, his expression focused and professional as he began to read. The entry described regular nighttime deliveries, boats with darkened lanterns, and crates moved through concealed passages beneath the town.
“This is remarkably specific.” Brooks looked up from the pages. “Was your great-grandmother working with law enforcement?”
“Not officially. The sheriff at that time was Winston Aldrich’s grandfather, which complicated matters. But Josephine passed information to federal agents when they occasionally visited the area. The Hawthorne women have always maintained a complex relationship with local authorities.”
Brooks nodded, returning to the journal. As he continued reading, his expression grew more serious. “According to this, the smuggling operation involved not just alcohol during Prohibition but continued afterward with other contraband. And the tunnels remained in use.”
“Yes. The Aldrich family transitioned to legitimate business enterprises over time, but rumors persisted about occasional illicit activities. My grandmother believed that Gerald Aldrich resumed using them in the 1980s and 90s, though for what purpose, she was never certain.”
“And you believe Lily Morgan may have discovered evidence of this while researching for her school project.”
“I can show you what Lily discovered.”
Vivienne moved to a small wooden box on her desk, one that had belonged to Martha Morgan. Inside lay a few personal items: a hair ribbon, a silver locket, a fragment of paper with Lily’s handwriting. She lifted the locket, centering herself with breathing techniques her mother had taught her.
The moment her skin made contact with the silver, impressions flooded her mind.
Water filled desperate lungs, salt burned her throat.
Hands dragged her through stone passages while she fought and screamed.
The beacon spun overhead as blood streamed down her face.
Winston Aldrich’s voice echoed off stone walls: “She knows too much about our operations.” The splash as they threw her into the tidal pool beneath the structure, where the current would carry her body out to sea.
Vivienne gasped and dropped the locket. It clattered onto the desk.
Brooks was on his feet. “What just happened? Your eyes—they went completely white.”
Her hands trembled. She reached for her water glass with shaking fingers and took a measured sip, using the grounding techniques her mother had perfected. The room spun, then steadied.
“Vivienne.” Brooks moved closer but didn’t touch her. “What did you see?”
She pulled a small cloth bag from her desk drawer, removing dried herbs that she crushed between her palms. The familiar lavender and sage scent helped center her.
“Water. Drowning. Lily fought—she fought so hard. But they dragged her through the tunnels.” Her voice caught.
“Winston Aldrich. I heard his voice. He said she knew too much about their operations. Then they threw her into the water beneath the structure.”
“Jesus.” Brooks ran a hand through his hair. “You’re still shaking.”
“It always happens after. The intensity . . .” She tucked the herb sachet back into her drawer and met his eyes. “That’s why no one ever found her. The tidal pools connect to the underground river system. The current carried her deep into the flooded chambers.”
Brooks stared at the locket on her desk. “What I just watched—your eyes, the way you weren’t here—that’s not possible.”
“And yet.”
He paced to the window, then back. “This is insane. Except you knew about the cove. You knew about the blood. And now you’re telling me exactly where to find a body that’s been missing for twenty-five years.”
“There’s an entrance through the sea caves, accessible only at low tide.”
“If you’re wrong about this—if I drag Chief Sullivan and a forensics team out there based on a vision—”
“I’m not wrong.” Vivienne’s voice was steady now despite her trembling hands.
“My mother spent years developing techniques to manage these abilities. Previous generations thought the gift would kill them. She proved it was just exhaustion, that with proper preparation you could help the dead without destroying yourself.”
Brooks stopped pacing. “The dead.”
“Lily is still there, Brooks. Still calling for justice. The dead don’t rest until someone hears them.”
He looked at her for a long moment, his rational mind clearly at war with what he’d just witnessed. Finally, he nodded. “What do you need to prepare for this?”
“Just my grandmother’s compass and some protective herbs.
The spirits want to help us. They’re not a threat, they’re our allies in this investigation.
” As they prepared to leave, Vivienne cast one last glance at the grimoire.
The symbols on its cover seemed to pulse with warm light, responding to her confidence in her family’s true legacy.
Someone had to speak for the dead, but that didn’t mean sacrificing the living.
They met Chief Sullivan at the beacon an hour before low tide.
The chief had brought Officer Daniels and proper cave exploration equipment: rope, waterproof flashlights, and safety harnesses.
His expression suggested skepticism about Vivienne’s “feelings” but also recognition that her insights had proven accurate before.
“Miss Hawthorne believes there’s an entrance to underground chambers accessible through the sea caves. Given the tidal patterns and what we know about Lily Morgan’s disappearance, it’s worth investigating.”
Sullivan studied the rocky coastline, calculating risk.
“The caves are dangerous even at low tide. Sharp rocks, unstable footing, limited time before the water rises again. If we’re going in, we do it by the book: safety protocols, constant communication, and we’re out at the first sign of trouble. ”
“Understood.”
Vivienne stood slightly apart, her fingers wrapped around Emmeline’s compass. The needle spun, then pointed toward a section of cliff face that appeared solid from this angle. “There. Behind that rock formation.”
They descended, using the rope system Daniels had set up. The footing was treacherous, made worse by seaweed and spray from the retreating tide. Vivienne moved with confidence, her boots finding purchase on the slick rocks.
The opening was exactly where she’d indicated, a narrow fissure partially obscured by the natural rock formation. Brooks shone his light inside, revealing a passage that widened after the first few feet.
“I’ll go first,” he said, but Vivienne was already moving forward.
“The spirits are strongest near entrances. I need to be in front to read their guidance clearly.”
Before Brooks could argue, she’d slipped through the opening. He followed with Sullivan and Daniels close behind. The passage opened into a larger cave system, the walls glistening with moisture and phosphorescent algae providing an eerie greenish glow.
Vivienne paused, her hand pressed against the stone. “She was here. Lily. I can feel her terror, her desperate attempt to escape.” She moved deeper into the cave, following a path that seemed invisible to the others.
“How can you know—”
Brooks raised a hand to silence Sullivan. “Just follow her. I’ve seen enough to trust her instincts.”
They moved through the cave system, descending toward the sound of rushing water. The temperature dropped, and the air grew thick with salt and decay. Then the passage opened into a larger chamber, and Brooks’s light caught on something that made his stomach clench.
Bones. Human bones, scattered across the rocky floor and partially submerged in the tidal pool at the chamber’s center.
“Oh God.” Sullivan’s voice came out hoarse.
Vivienne knelt beside the remains, her face pale but composed.
“Lily Morgan. She’s been here all along, waiting for someone to find her.
” She looked up at Brooks, tears streaming down her face but her voice steady.
“And she’s not alone. There are others. The Aldrich family has been using this place for decades. ”
Brooks moved forward with his flashlight, documenting the scene with the camera on his phone, which automatically backed up to his cloud storage.
The bones showed signs of trauma, fractures consistent with being struck or thrown.
And there, half-buried in the sand, was a corroded camera.
Lily’s camera, still containing the memory card that might hold evidence of what she’d discovered.
“We need forensics. We need to secure this entire area,” Brooks said.
“And we need to find Melissa Clarkson before she ends up here too,” Sullivan added solemnly.
Vivienne stood, wiping her eyes. “She’s not here. They’re keeping her somewhere else, somewhere they can watch her, control her. The passages Lily documented in her research, that’s where we’ll find Melissa.”
“Can you locate those tunnels?”
“I can. But we need to move quickly. The Aldriches know we’re getting close. They’ll eliminate Melissa soon if they haven’t already, and we have to watch for the tide.”
As they prepared to leave the chamber, marking the location for the state forensics team, Vivienne paused at the entrance. She placed her hand on the stone, whispering words in French that Brooks didn’t understand. When she turned back, her expression had shifted from grief to determination.
“Lily’s spirit is here. She’s ready to crossover. She’ll be able to rest, knowing the truth will finally be revealed.” Vivienne met Brooks’s eyes. “But first, we have a life to save.”
They climbed back out of the caves as the tide began to turn, racing against both time and rising water.
Brooks knew they’d crossed a threshold. This was no longer just a missing persons case, but a murder investigation spanning decades.
And somewhere in the passages beneath Westerly Cove, Melissa Clarkson was running out of time.