6. Chapter 6
P atrick and I creep slowly into the hallway. Well, I creep and he kinda just walks behind me. I couldn’t tell where the scream came from, and every second feels like an hour as we wander around the first floor of the house, seeing nothing. The woman is gone from the dining room even.
“Well, that leaves the second floor and out the back,” Patrick says calmly, his steadiness helping me not freak out as much. “How about we go upstairs while we’re inside? I’ll go first.”
I shake my head, determined to not be a dead weight, and take a step towards the stairs. A tall, severe woman who looks like she belongs in an 1800s schoolhouse with a ruler in hand appears about halfway down the steps. I startle and grab the railing. She smiles, gesturing for me to come closer, her mouth opening and closing like she’s trying to talk to me, yet no sound escapes beyond a slight rasping wheeze.
“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you,” I tell her apologetically, shuddering when her face suddenly changes into a hollow sort of stare. I shuffle back a few steps until I can feel Patrick pressed against my back, and his warmth gives me comfort.
“What happened? Is something wrong?” Patrick whispers in my ear as his arms wrap around me, his muscles tense like he’s ready to yank me out of the way at any second, even though he has no idea what the danger is.
“There’s a woman on the stairs. She was trying to talk to me, but now…” A chill runs down my spine. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels like she’s no longer the one staring back at me.”
The woman floats down the stairs, getting closer to us, then beckons at me to follow her up. When I don’t move, she gestures faster, her movements turning erratic when I don’t immediately do as she wants. Her mouth drops open with a snarl and a glint comes into her hollow eyes.
“How about we go outside first?” Patrick murmurs when I take a startled step into him.
His hand glides to the small of my back, turning me, then he pushes me towards the kitchen. We’d found a door to the backyard there while searching for the source of the scream, and none too soon, we were breathing in the fresh evening air.
“Can you still see her?” Patrick asks, running his hands in comforting circles up and down my arms.
I scan the grounds around us, shaking my head. “No, not anywhere he—AAAAAH!”
The woman suddenly appears halfway through the door we exited. She’s leaning forward, still beckoning me closer, but now she no longer seems to be attempting to make words. Instead, I can almost imagine hearing snarls as her face twists in anger.
“Oh my goodness.” I place a hand over my pounding heart, trying to calm it down. “She’s there in the doorway, but she seems stuck, almost like she’s tied to the house?”
“That’s quite possible.” Patrick nods, leading us farther away from the ghost in the door. We’re crunching through dead earth, what looks like it might have once been a garden. “My grandmother always said that the dead have their own morals and priorities, and you can’t trust that an encounter with one won’t end with a broken neck at the bottom of some stairs. Not all ghosts are bad, mind you. But sometimes the evil things that happened to them can twist their minds, and they get lost in a spiral of agony, taking it out on anyone they see. Grandmother always believed that they could be healed and thus find their way to the afterlife, but it’s only a theory.”
The ground shifts in front of me, transporting me to a place with fresh, vibrant vegetables growing under my feet, and birds chirping gayly and children’s laughter ringing in the air from somewhere unseen. I turn, trying to figure out where I am. The house, my ancestors’ house, is standing there, tall and proud.
The door opens, and a woman in pilgrim’s clothing steps out, a huge smile on her face as she walks towards me with a basket. “Edith, make sure the children learn their alphabet before they come out to play!” she calls over her shoulder before bending to pick ripe produce.
I shift, and she notices me, glancing up in confusion.
“Oh, hello there, strange friend. Who might you be?”
I open my mouth to reply, and the shriek from earlier splits the air, coming from somewhere in the house. The lady and I look up, watching in horror as something red coats the upstairs windows moments before a small body is thrown through it. The woman screams and rushes to it, but my attention stays on the window, on the woman from earlier—this time in another pilgrim-style dress—standing there. She’s sobbing, fighting against some unseen force even as her hand raises and turns a pistol towards her head. The gun shot follows a moment later, and I squeeze my eyes shut, falling to my knees, then empty my stomach contents onto dead earth.
“Are you okay, Morrigan?” Patrick whispers, holding me tightly to him. “You just suddenly went blank and weren’t responding. Did you see something again?”
I groan, pressing a hand against my suddenly aching head. I try to get to my feet and stumble, grateful Patrick is there to steady me. “Yeah. It was horrible.” I press my lips together, nausea swirling as I try to make sense of what happened. “There were multiple deaths. Bloody deaths. The lady from the stairs was… I don’t know, being controlled or something?”
I wince, recalling that horrible moment before the shot. “She was staring at me as she… as she…” I swallow the words, too disturbed to say them out loud. “I think she was still trying to tell me something. She kept motioning towards that dead tree on the edge of the lawn, and at the crypts.”
Patrick watches me with concern, keeping me bundled under his arm. “Are you up to checking it out? It’s understandable if you aren’t. I can take you back to my truck and look around a bit more if you need a break.”
I shake my head, forcing myself to dig deep and find some strength. “No, I need to do this. For those poor people.” I shudder again. “Whatever happened, the evil is still corrupting this land, making all these ghosts suffer. I can’t just leave them be if there’s a way I can help them.”
“Hey.” He turns me to face him, cradling my face between his large palms, and a wave of security washes over me at his touch. “Take a deep breath. You won’t be able to help the ghosts if you don’t take care of yourself first.” He breathes in, waiting for me to follow before releasing it, then he repeats that pattern a few times until I calm down slightly. “Good. I can’t begin to understand what it must be like to see the things you are seeing. Just remember that you aren’t alone in this. You can rely on me.”
I nod. “I know. You’re the only reason I made it through that house. I promise, if I need you, I will ask.”
“Good.” Patrick presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Now let’s go see what that ghost was trying to tell you. Creepy old tree or creepier old crypts first?”
I chuckle, some of the tension leaving me from his teasing. “How about we have the big, strong man check out the crypts while little old me goes to the tree? If something happens, we shout, and the other comes running.”
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to split up? That never works in horror flicks.” His eyes search mine. “Okay. If you need me, I’ll be there in a flash.”
I swallow hard and nod. I can do this.
The crunch of long-dead weeds is the only sound as we part. I make a beeline for the tree, a pit forming in my stomach as I recall how big and welcoming it had been in the past. Now it is just an old hunk of rotting wood, and most of it is destroyed.
Quoth doesn’t seem to mind that it's dead as he swoops onto it at my approach, cawing out a hello before preening his feathers. “Hey Quoth. Enjoying the fresh air?” He cocks his head and croaks out an answer, then flies off towards the crypt and Patrick.
It looks like any old tree, and I wonder why the ghost wants me to check it out. Maybe this is one of those ‘ghosts have their own priority’ things Patrick was talking about, but the fear and desperation on her face as she died made me believe that isn’t the truth.
“Maybe it’ll just drop into my lap like the grimoire,” I mutter, circling the base as I contemplate my choices. Touching the tree does nothing and I can’t see anything while circling it.
A strange energy hums when I pass a specific area, and I pause, then circle again to make sure. I step on a large chunk of root, clambering up until I can see into the hollow center.
At first, I see nothing beyond darkness. With a groan, I wiggle around until I can pull my phone from my back pocket, balancing on my stomach, with my feet flailing outside the tree. Finally getting it free, I flick the flashlight back on and shine it in. The light catches on something turquoise and shiny. I reach for it, but my arm is too short by a couple of inches.
I wiggle farther in with an irritated growl, still not able to reach it.
“Come on,” I whisper, straining just. A. Little. Farther… A face pops through the tree opposite me with a giggle, a small child staring up at me through wide, innocent eyes. “Aah!” My eyes open wide as I scream, my feet swinging up as my body pitches into the hollow core. Windmilling my arms, I manage to catch myself before I get stuck face-first in the tree and I lift myself up, a couple inches away from the ghost’s face.
The child reaches out, sending a shiver through me as he tries to touch me but fails. His hand just passes through me. He frowns down at his hand, waving it back and forth a few times before he focuses on the gem below me. “Shiny?” he asks, looking back up at me.
“Yes, yes! I need to get the shiny,” I say with forced cheer, working to keep the tremble out of it. I don’t want to freak out on this little boy.
He tilts his head, reminding me of Quoth when he’s trying to figure out how to trick me into giving him more treats. Then the boy reaches down and closes his fist around the object. As soon as his skin connects with it, it glows, a bright green beam that instantly makes me feel refreshed, erasing my exhaustion. The boy lifts it, then holds it out for me to take.
“What? How are you doing that?” I whisper, thinking back to all the ghosts who haven’t been able to touch anything.
He grins widely, releasing the small turquoise gem into my palm. He begins to fade away. “Look deep inside of yourself, Morrigan. You’re an O’Byrne. The magic flows through you like all of us before you. Open your mind. Trust it to guide you. Trust yourself and save us before the evil wins.” The voice feels ancient, full of pain and suffering and not at all like when the child spoke before. It resonates through my soul; wrapping around me like a mother’s hug before it fades off as the boy disappears completely, leaving me dangling awkwardly from the dead tree with a glowing gem in my hand.
“Morrigan!” Patrick’s shout is shaky and high-pitched, the sound strained like he’s struggling to form words.
It’s the first time I’ve heard him be anything aside from calm, and I nearly face-plant into the tree from the second heart-attack inducing surprise in thirty minutes. With my amazing gymnastic skills, also known as How-to-Capture-a-Troublemaker-Bird 101, I shimmy around until I can hop out of the tree, taking off at a sprint for the crypt.
My feet slow as I reach the corner of the small wooden building that houses the crypt entrance, my palms sweating the nearer I get to where Patrick’s shout came. An oppressive, dark cloud hangs over the ground, thick and choking, and for the first time I understand what Patrick meant about the feeling of not belonging. I fight to step forward—closer to where Patrick needs me—while every instinct screams at me to run far, far away.
My stomach in my throat I creep closer, my shoulders hunching more with every step I take. “Patrick?” I hiss quietly. “Where did you go?”
“Morrigan! Over here!” he calls from my right, and I spin and dart in that direction with an eep. “Watch out for those vines!” Patrick shouts just as I trip over the tangle of brown strands covering the ground in a five-foot section out from the crypt and land on my ass. “I think they’re cursed. They’re trying to bury me in the crypt.”
“They’re trying to WHAT!?” I screech, crawling back from the apparently evil things. “I didn’t sign up for some fucked-up plants-versus-humans game.”
Patrick chuckles, his voice closer now. “Just come help me out of here, please. They seem to be avoiding you. Must be that special O’Byrne blood.”
I get to my feet and turn to find him, trying to see through the clouds surrounding me. Finally, it clears for a moment and I can make out a mass of vines writhing against one of the walls of the crypt. Patrick’s head becomes visible through the chaos for just a moment, then disappears again. His body sinks lower and lower into the ground with every pass of the vines. I sprint over and shove my hands into the vines without thinking, grabbing the ones holding him hostage and ripping them from his body. The vines shiver and writhe away underneath the wooden building, leaving Patrick muddy and half-buried in the ground.
“Oh my gosh! Are you okay?” I gasp, brushing dirt and dead leaves off his face. “Let me get you out of there.” I glance around. What can I use to free him? I spot a black backpack sitting on the ground a few feet away, a foldable shovel tied to the side. I’m not sure how a backpack would get all the way out here and be in such great shape, but I’m not about to complain. With a triumphant shout, I grab it, setting the gem from the tree at the doorway to the crypt so I won’t lose it, and get to digging.
“Not to rush you or anything, but I can’t move my hands,” Patrick teases me, his voice once again back to the calm tone I’ve become accustomed to. “The vines came out of nowhere once I approached the crypt. I’m not sure if it’s a protection spell gone wrong or some side effect of the dark magic attack.”
“Well, I’m glad they didn’t bury you completely. I’m sorry I didn’t get here before you were in the ground. I got a little stuck in the tree.” I sink the shovel into the ground. The earth is harder than I expect after how easily Partick was buried. It takes a bit of effort, but soon I’ve dug out enough to pull him free. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he pants, lying back with a laugh as he stares up at me. “You sure know how to make a person feel out of shape. I haven’t run this much since I was a kid!” After a moment, he sits up, turning to me excitedly. “Oh yeah, the tree! Did you find anything?”
I glance around, remembering that I set the gem by the crypt. It’s not glowing anymore, and now that I have a second to study it, I can see that it was a necklace at one point in time, the chain gone with time but the rest of it is still in one piece.
“Yeah, this gem was in the middle of the tree. I was struggling to reach it, then a ghost boy handed it to me.” I frown as I recall how it began to glow when the boy touched it, then bend to pick it up.
My fingers close around the gem as a burst of wind hits me in the cheek and I lose my balance. Quoth, a couple of vines proudly dangling from his talons, narrowly avoids whacking into me as he dive-bombs Patrick and I. I catch myself on the crypt’s door right before I fall face first into a pile of dead leaves. “Whew! That was close. Good work with the vines, Quoth.” I giggle, righting myself and pushing away thoughts of how Patrick almost ended up inside there. “Here’s what I—”
A rumble interrupts my sentence. Teal-colored beams of light explode from my body, hitting the door of the crypt, then rushing across the outside of the building. At first it seems like nothing changes, but then…
The dead leaves turn to dust, and in their place, sprouts of green grass appear, filling a small circle around where we stand. The crypt itself changes, too. The rotting wood and centuries of dirt and grim fade away until it looks brand new, with fresh pine plank carefully fitted together and gentle green vines dance playfully up the sides.
“Are you seeing this?” I whisper to Patrick, backing away from the crypt with wide eyes. “What happened?”
“I think you did this,” he says in awe. The teal light dances up his legs, swirling around his body before it disperses completely, leaving him healed and the small circle of earth around us green and bursting with life. “I think you tapped into the gem and used it to jumpstart your powers.”
“That’s not possible.” I shake my head, overwhelmed by everything. “I’m just somebody who sees ghosts and likes history. Not some cool person with superpowers.”
Patrick chuckles. “Well, I thought you were cool even when you just saw ghosts, so it’s not a surprise to me.” He holds out a hand with a wink. “Now let’s check out the dead people, my heroine.”
We walk to the entrance and slowly push open the door.
“Hi! I didn’t think anyone would find me in here!”