Peggy Sue Got Married. Again and Again and Again…
October 1
Trixie Belden was bored. Outside the window, she could see the mid-afternoon sun shining brightly in a brilliant blue sky. It was a perfect autumn day, with temperatures cool enough to need a jacket, but not so cold that misery and frostbite were distinct possibilities. She briefly entertained herself with a mental image of a horseback ride through the Wheeler game preserve, where she had not a care in the world beyond deciding which path to take through the lovely woods.
Unfortunately, her daydream was cruelly interrupted by a strident voice calling the class to attention and announcing a pop quiz.
Of course, she thought with a long sigh. Of course they had a pop quiz. It was Algebra 2, her least favorite class. It was also Wednesday. Bad things always happened on Wednesdays. As far as Trixie was concerned, calling it Hump Day was silly. Suck Day was so much more appropriate and accurate. At least it was 7th period. Once she got through the next half hour, she would be free for the rest of the day - or as free as she could be, considering the chores she still had waiting for her at home on the farm.
She was the first one out of the classroom when the bell rang. At her locker, she crammed her textbook and folder into the jumbled mess, along with her other school books and belongings, and slammed the door shut. She was reasonably sure she didn’t have any homework for the evening, and wasn’t so sure she cared even if she did.
She was just turning around as Daniel Mangan sauntered up and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Have I got an idea you are going to love,” he announced smugly.
She eyed him with no small amount of skepticism. Sometimes, Dan did come up with genuinely great ideas. Other times… not so much.
“No, really,” he continued, grinning broadly at her pronounced frown. “To steal from Honey, it’s ‘perfectly perfect.’”
“The last time you made that claim, I ended up grounded for a week. And you busted my bicycle.”
Dan shrugged at her complaint. “Not my fault,” he said, waving his free hand. “It should have worked. It would have worked, if it hadn’t been for that freak thunderstorm.”
Blowing out a short breath, Trixie slowly nodded. “All right. Let’s hear it. What have you cooked up this time?”
“The theme for this year’s Halloween bash. A Night with Sarah Sligo.”
“Uh… huh?”
“Think about it. We decorate the Lynch mansion to look like Lisgard House. We get the oh-so-delectable Diana to play the role of Sarah. You have to admit, her acting’s really improved since that whole Shakespeare catastrophe a few years ago. Then? We recreate the night Sarah died.”
“She died when a mob of angry villagers burned her alive in her own home,” Trixie pointed out. “Mr. and Mrs. Lynch are pretty easy-going, all things considered, but I think they might draw the line at letting you torch their house in the name of a good party.”
“It’s not like we’d really set the place on fire!” Dan said, waving off this objection. “We just have to form the mob – you know, with pitch forks and torches - and then we storm up to the house yelling about how Sarah’s a witch and has to die.”
“Oh, I can see so many ways where this could all go terribly wrong…”
“I haven’t got to the best part yet.”
“Really.”
Her unspoken wish that he’d pick up on the flat, disinterested tone in her voice went unfulfilled. “Authenticity,” Dan said grandly, his smile widening even more.
“Authenticity? What? You got Sarah’s ghost on speed dial or something? Maybe you forgot, but she died over three hundred years ago.”
“Ha. No. I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting Miss Sligo. In human or ethereal form. But we do have access to the Lisgard estate, so we can go ransack it for items to use for the party.”
“Wait. What? How?” Trixie pushed him away so she could face him fully. She regarded him with a dubious stare. “What do you mean we have access to the estate?”
“So it turns out? The new owners have hired a guy to work as a caretaker. They’ve got some wacky plan to tear down the remains and build a big McMansion or something. Complete with a swimming pool, no less. The construction is supposed to start in the spring. Meanwhile, they’ve said they really don’t much care what happens to anything found on the property now.”
“And you know this how?” Trixie demanded.
Dan thumped his chest. “You’re looking at the new caretaker.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Serious as a dog with a meaty bone. Mr. Gregory called Mr. Wheeler to ask for recommendations for a local guy who would work for cheap-“
“Gosh. And I guess your name came right up?”
“And Mr. Wheeler mentioned how he had an employee with a responsible, hard-working nephew who is diligently saving for college-“
“Miss Trask has a nephew we’ve never heard of? Gee. He sounds wonderful. I’d like to meet him.”
Dan rolled his eyes. “Cute. Uncle Bill agreed with Mr. Wheeler that I’m the perfect man for the job.”
“Probably? That has more to do with getting you out of his way than your suitability as a caretaker. I don’t think Regan ever truly forgave you for the horseshoe incident.”
“That wasn’t my fault, either! That was a great idea before it’s time.” Dan shifted his weight, rocking back on his heels. “Someday, you really will appreciate my inventive genius.”
Trixie shook her head, sending her curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Someday, I’ll probably be actively campaigning to have you committed.” She lifted a hand to wave absently at a passing classmate.
“C’mon, Freckles. You know this is an awesome idea.”
“Hmmm.”
“Come with me today. I’ll be picking up keys from a lawyer’s office and we can go do some exploring. You know you want to. How many times have you mentioned how much you wanna see Lisgard House?”
Trixie bit down on her lower lip. Despite her strong misgivings, he really had her there. For as long as she could remember, she’d always been fascinated by Lisgard House and stories of Sarah Sligo, a young woman who’d fallen victim to the superstitious hysteria of a Sleepyside literally caught up in a witch hunt. Sarah had died a most gruesome death, supposedly swearing she would return for her revenge, and ever since, people periodically made claims to ghost sightings on or near the estate grounds.
“We still have a couple of hours of daylight left…” Dan cajoled. “Think of what we might find.”
“What might we find?” a new voice asked curiously. “And where?”
They both turned to watch Mart Belden stroll up, his expression one that mirrored Trixie’s wary skepticism. She sent her brother a resigned look as he casually leaned up against her locker. “Dan’s got a new job,” she told him. “And an idea. You know. One of those ideas. The kind we always seem to get sucked into.”
Mart’s blue eyes tracked over to Dan. “No. I will not help you hack into the school records. Remember, I’m a White Hat. I only use my powers for good.”
“Hey,” Dan said mildly, “I’ll have you know my grades are all just fine, thank you very much.”
“I know they are. And I’m still not going to help you fail Jerry Vanderhoef or steal Jane Morgan’s home address.”
“He wants to have this year’s Halloween party be Sarah Sligo themed,” Trixie broke in to explain. “And he wants to make it authentic by using real relics from Lisgard House.”
“Which I have legal permission to do, from the current owners of the property,” Dan hurried to add.
Mart considered this for a moment. “It… could work, I guess. I know Di’s been asking everyone about the bash. I think she’s tired of always being responsible for the theme and decorating.”
“That kinda goes along with being the hostess,” Trixie said. “So, no. Really? You’re really on board with this?”
“It couldn’t hurt to check it out.”
Trixie looked back and forth between both boys. “Famous last words,” she intoned darkly. “Just remember Moms has a whole list of stuff for us to do tonight, so we can’t stay out too late.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trixie had never seen Lisgard House up close. Her views of the property had always been limited to brief flashes over the crumbling brick walls that surrounded the estate, glimpsed as she rode past on the bus to and from school. Now that she figured she was in on Dan’s latest scheme, for better or for worse, she found she was eager to finally get inside the estate and take a good look around. She waited impatiently while Dan worked to unlock the rusty gate that blocked access to the winding driveway.
Mart pulled a face as he studied their surroundings. “I know real estate can be pricey in this area, but I can’t imagine anyone paying much for this lot. It’s a disaster.”
“Eh,” Dan replied with a one-shoulder shrug. “It’ll clean up nice. You’ll see.”
“If you say so,” Mart returned doubtfully.
The gate creaked loudly as Dan struggled to push it open. To Trixie, it was an ominous sound. Her eagerness dimmed and she hesitated as the boys stepped forward. “Just for the record… isn’t this how most horror movies start out?”
Chuckling, Mart glanced back at her. “Yes, sister, dear. Of course, since horror movies aren’t real, you can probably quit worrying.”
“I can think of at least seven different reasons why to worry right now,” Trixie retorted, “and I can assure you, the consequences would be very real.” She shook herself and moved to follow them. “Someone has to be the voice of reason here.”
“If I’d wanted a voice of reason along, I woulda invited Honey to join us,” Dan said cheerfully as he pocketed his keys.
They had to pick their way carefully through the weeds and brush. Thorns caught at their clothing and twice Trixie’s hair was snagged by outstretched branches from overgrown shrubbery. The second time, she needed Mart’s help to get free.
They came to a stop at the top of the drive and stood staring up at the dilapidated structure that loomed over them. “Sheesh,” Mart mumbled. “If it’s this creepy during broad daylight, I can only imagine what this place is like at night.”
“Yeah. And look at the broken windows,” Trixie added. “You know what that means. We can expect all sorts of critters have taken up residence inside. Joy.”
Dan rolled his eyes and stomped resolutely up the wide porch steps. “You two are gonna psych yourselves out before you even get through the door. C’mon. We’re burnin’ sunshine, kiddies.”
There was no need to unlock the front door. It hung loosely on bent hinges, swinging inward with little resistance to Dan’s light push. The foyer lay beyond, a contrast of shadows and light. They could see thick dust motes dancing in the air and Trixie’s prediction proved accurate. A startled rat raced across the rotting wood floor, disappearing into the gloom beyond the wide staircase that led to the second floor.
“Be careful where you step,” Mart cautioned. “It wouldn’t surprise me if a floorboard gave out on us.”
For a moment, they hesitated, not entirely certain where to start their tour. “Which way?” Trixie finally asked, glancing over at her brother and friend.
“Let’s try the library,” Mart suggested, pointing to his left. “There’s more light in that room than in here, anyway.”
Dan stepped closer to the open doorway. “I’m betting that has something to do with the gaping hole in the far wall.” He wandered further into the room, not waiting to see if Mart and Trixie followed. “Trix? You’re the Sarah Sligo expert. Don’t the stories say she was trapped here in her library during the fire?”
Trixie shook her head as she approached one of the dust and cobweb-covered bookshelves. It was lined with moldy, disintegrating tomes that gave off a strong, unpleasant smell. “No. She was supposed to be in some sorta secret room off the library somewhere. The villagers trapped her inside, before setting the fire.”
Dan turned in a complete circle, frowning. “The stories can’t be right, then. Look around. There’s no evidence of any burning in here.”
“You gotta remember, the human barbeque took place centuries ago. The house was rebuilt several times since then. It only looks like this now ‘cause it’s been abandoned for a few decades.”
“So you’re saying there could still be a hidden room around here somewhere?”
“So the legends go,” Trixie replied with a small shrug. “Of course, legend also says the place is haunted by a witch’s ghost, so I guess you have to take it all with an ocean of salt.”
Mart reached up and pulled two books from a shelf. He winced as an enormous cockroach skittered away before he let the books fall to the floor with a dull thump. “I think I found the not-so-secret-anymore room,” he said.
The back of the shelf was lined by thin boards that had splintered, leaving a wide crack. Though the light that filtered in from the sun’s rays was fairly weak, they could still make out a small room behind the shelf-lined wall. There was a long table, covered in an assortment of jars, bowls, and ceramic pots, an overturned stool, and some kind of wooden cabinet in the far corner.
“Oh, this is exactly what we were looking for!” Dan exclaimed, grinning. “Way to go, Mart! We’ve been here five minutes and you’ve already discovered Sarah’s secret workshop.”
“Yeah, well, we can see it,” Mart responded, “but how do we actually get in there? I’m not seeing a door anywhere. Are you?”
“There’s got to be some way in,” Dan pointed out reasonably. “We just have to find it.”
For the next several minutes, they searched for a latch or hidden switch that would possibly reveal a door of some kind and allow them access to the workshop. After several unsuccessful attempts, Dan gave in to his frustration and grabbed a metal poker from a bucket near the old fireplace that dominated the library’s one fully standing wall. He swung it overhead, striking the already split boards.
“Whoa!” Mart shouted. “Have you lost your mind? What are you doing?”
Dan paused to look at his friend. “What? You think I could actually make this place look any worse than it already does? Besides, I told you. The new owners are planning a complete demolish anyway.”
Mart exchanged a glance with Trixie, who shrugged and grinned. “Yeah. What he said.”
“But how’s a bigger hole in the shelf gonna help us? Then what?”
“Then? I give your sister a boost and she climbs through to see if she can find a way to open it from the inside.”
Trixie’s expression changed from an amused smile to a narrow-eyed glare. “Excuse me? Do what?”
“Don’t worry, Freckles. You’ll be fine.”
“Uh, huh.”
Dan took another swing, putting all his weight behind it. The poker crashed through the wood and lodged in place. He gave it a sharp tug, and felt the entire shelf shift. “Hey! I think… maybe I’ve got something here. Grab on and pull.”
It took some effort, but then they heard a distinct “pop” and the shelf swung away, revealing a large opening. “I’m betting we just broke the lock,” Mart said, stepping gingerly into the workshop. A cloud of dust kicked up with his footsteps. “Which may be a good thing, because it could prevent us from accidentally getting locked in.”
“I’ll be sure to send an apology note to the owners,” Dan told him, his tone dripping sarcasm. “So? Take a look around. Remember, we’re looking for stuff we could use at the party.”
Trixie grimaced in distaste as she peered at a cloudy jar full of dirt, wondering what purpose it had once served.
“Here’s something,” Mart said as he gently brushed his hand across the cover of a musty journal. “It’s got Sarah’s initials on the cover.”
“Check this baby out!” Dan said at the same time. He held out a tarnished medallion. It was so dull and worn, it was almost impossible to discern any markings on it. “How much d’ya think this is worth?”
Trixie snorted inelegantly. “I knew it. This isn’t about the Halloween bash at all. You’re just looking for a quick way to make a few bucks.”
“It’s not like that! Freckles, you wound me.”
Trixie didn’t bother with a reply. She stepped closer to her brother, peering over his shoulder. “What is it? A diary?”
“I’m not completely sure. It’s old. I can say that much.” He carefully turned a few pages. “Wow. Look at this sketch. Sarah must’ve been really into anatomy.”
Trixie glanced at the drawing he indicated and instantly regretted it. “Okay… that’s a lot more realistic than I ever wanted to see. And that’s definitely not English. I wonder what it says.”
“It’s Latin,” Mart told her. “You know… that stuffy, dead language you’re always complaining about?”
“I complain about it because it’s annoying. Used to be, you were always showing off with the twenty-five cent words when two cent words would serve just fine. Now you annoy us all with Latin.”
Dan flipped his coin up into the air and caught it again. “I’m with Freckles on this one. Why spend time learning a language you’ll never use? You shoulda taken Spanish with me, dude.”
“Understanding Latin helps improve your English,” Mart informed them loftily. He lifted the book so that he could see the crumbling pages better. “And I happen to be the best student in our grade, according to Mrs. Rosebury. Aperi oculos meos, ut videam circa me.”
A gust of wind blew through the open doorway, ruffling the pages of the journal. Trixie’s gaze shifted to the hole in the outer library wall and her brow furrowed as she saw no hint of movement in the foliage beyond. Everything was suddenly silent and still. Not even the insects were stirring. A sense of deep foreboding stole over her.
“Spiritu, qui vocat vos. Innotescite.”
From overhead, there was a loud crash, like the sound of breaking glass.
“Uh, Mart, maybe you want stop that now?” Trixie hissed, her eyes raised to the ceiling. “I’m not sure we’re actually alone here.”
“Calm down, baby sis. You said yourself there’s got to be all kinds of critters living here now. That was probably a raccoon or something.” He inhaled deeply before continuing. “Facere iussus et apparent!”
“Hey!” Dan shouted. He dropped the medallion, shaking his hand. “What the…? It got hot!”
For a long moment, they said nothing, staring at one another. A single crow cawed mournfully from somewhere nearby, but nothing else disturbed the unnatural stillness that had settled over them. Mart finally shook his head. “You’re imagining things,” he said firmly.
“Yeah. Right.” Dan bent down and poked the coin. It was cool to the touch. He frowned slightly. Maybe he was imagining things after all. He picked it up and slipped it into his pocket. “I wanna look around some more. At least on the ground floor. Any takers?”
Mart didn’t respond, his attention back on the journal in his hands. With a sigh, Trixie shrugged. “Have at. I think I’m gonna maybe explore the foyer first. I’m pretty sure there was a cupboard under the stairs.”
“Uh, huh. Well, just so you know, you may luck out and not encounter any rabid rodents, but there will probably be plenty of spiders crawling all over the place.”
“Gee. Thanks for pointing that out.”
They left Mart absorbed in his reading. Trixie went straight to the stairs and opened the narrow closet door as Dan wandered into the formal dining room opposite the library. The sunlight wasn’t reaching far enough in to dispel the darkness in the cupboard, leaving it a black pit. She fished her cell phone from her pocket and tapped the screen. The brightness of her flashlight app caused her to blink several times before she could focus her gaze. She found herself staring at a lump of rotted canvas and an old broom. She smiled slightly. While brooms and witches went hand in hand, this one had a plastic handle. It was definitely old, but not old enough to be something Sarah had once owned. She shut the door and turned back around, supposing she would join Dan as he toured the rest of the downstairs.
A shadowy, indistinct figure suddenly materialized before her, blocking her path. Trixie shrieked in startled fear and surprise. And then, acting on survival instinct more than rational thought, and lacking any other readily available weapon, she lobbed her cell phone directly at the stranger. It sailed across the hall, her aim quite good, and passed harmlessly through the man at forehead level, striking the wall behind him before clattering to the floor.
Although she’d half-expected something like that to happen, she still screamed again. Scrambling backwards, she tripped over a tattered Oriental rug and went down, landing hard on the bottom few steps of the staircase. She realized immediately she was too stunned and scared to be hurt. “Who… what?” she stammered dazedly, not wanting to believe her own eyes.
“I don’t mean you any harm.” The man moved further into the light streaming in through the open front doorway.
Trixie’s mind went blank, unable to fully form coherent thoughts. It was now even more obvious that he wasn’t completely solid. Though he stood there in front of her, she could still make out the wall directly behind him. “Oh. My. God,” she whispered faintly as she pushed herself back to a standing position. “How – how is this possible?”
“Trixie!” Dan hollered, barreling into the foyer, a broken chair leg in his hand, ready to confront whoever or whatever had prompted her terrified shrieks. He passed directly through the man who had been unexpectedly standing in his way and skidded to a halt, looking around wildly. “What the hell…?”
“You know,” the apparition said reprovingly as he solidified even more, “that really wasn’t very nice. You should watch where you’re going.”
“Freckles?”
“Yeah, Dan. I see him.”
“He’s…”
“Semi-transparent? Yep. Dead? I’m thinking that’s also likely.”
The strange man moved forward again. “Vernon. The name’s Vernon,” he said. “Vernon Parker.” He took another step and his head fell off, rolling across the floor to stop at Dan’s feet.
At first, no one moved or spoke, then Dan drew in a ragged breath, stepping to the side to put himself between Trixie and the headless figure. “That? Is wrong on so many levels,” he muttered with a visible shudder. “All levels, as a matter of fact.”
Vernon’s eyes popped open. “Well, darnit,” his head said from its position on the floor. “I really hate when this happens. Can I get one of you to give me a hand here?”
“Uh…” Trixie blinked hard, not sure how else to respond.
Vernon’s body flailed about behind him, arms waving wildly as it stumped helplessly around. “Now would be a good time,” he continued. “Before I accidentally kick myself. You have no idea how hard this is when there’s no one about to help me.”
“Hey, guys!” Mart called as he strolled into the foyer, his gaze still firmly fixed on the book in his hands. “You should hear this-“
“Not a good time, Mart,” Trixie said sharply, wondering how her brother could be so smart and so obtuse at the same time. “And where have you been? Thanks for rushing to my rescue, bro!”
“Out back,” he responded distractedly. “The light in here isn’t really enough to read by.” He paused and frowned. “Rescue?”
“Hello, there,” Vernon said pleasantly. “Could I trouble you for some assistance?”
“Wha-?” Mart look down toward the source of the voice and jumped back with a high-pitched screech. “What?” he cried again. “What?!”
“If you’d just take a moment and return my head to its rightful place?”
“I… I don’t…” Mart’s suddenly nerveless fingers dropped the journal to the dusty floor. “Holy crap!” he breathed. “Holy freakin’ crap!”
“Hey, look,” Dan said slowly, holding up one hand. “You know we’d, uh, love to help and all-“
“No. Really. We wouldn’t,” Trixie cut in sharply. “Ghost, Dan. He’s a ghost!”
“But, yeah,” Dan continued, ignoring Trixie’s interruption. “The thing is… how? I mean, you saw what happened a minute ago. I ran through you. How’m I supposed to pick up your head?”
“You just have to concentrate,” Vernon told him helpfully. “Put your mind to it.”
Dan slowly squatted down. He reached out a hand and cringed as it passed through Vernon’s skull. “Nope!” he exclaimed, rising quickly. “Sorry. You’re on your own, man.”
“M-maybe I could do it?” Mart suggested tentatively.
“Or… and here’s a novel thought,” Trixie said, “maybe we could get the hell out of here?”
“Goodness!” Vernon murmured. “That’s no language for a young lady to employ.”
“Seriously? Seriously? You’re a dead guy with an unattached head and you want to talk to me about my word choice?” Trixie squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “I’m dreaming. Or hallucinating. That has to be it. This cannot possibly be real.”
“No, dear. I assure you I’m real.” Vernon smiled at her. “And I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me?” she squeaked. “What?”
“Well, not you specifically. Waiting for anyone to use the vision spell.”
“Vision spell? Vision spell?” Trixie shook her head hard. “I didn’t use any spell. I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”
“Hmmm. One of you must have recited it,” Vernon said, his expression becoming thoughtful. “Ordinarily, we spirits can’t be seen by live mortals.”
Trixie and Dan turned their gazes on Mart. “This is your fault, bro. You just had to go and read that stuff out loud, huh?”
“Well, that, and you must have the amulet,” Vernon added.
Trixie scowled heavily. “Amulet? Would that by any chance be something that looked like an old coin?”
“The very thing!”
“Right! So… he read the spell, and he has the amulet. I? Have nothing to do with any of this, and you know what? I’m leaving now. Yeah. I’m just gonna walk out that door and-“
“Oh, now! You can’t just walk away,” Vernon admonished her sternly. “The deed is done. You’ve summoned the spirits and now it’s your job to help us. That’s how it works.”
“One? Again, I did not summon anyone. Two? I can’t help you, even if I wanted to, and three? Us? Whadd’ya mean ‘us’?”
“You don’t think I’m the only spirit in need of assistance, do you? We’ve been waiting a long time for help to come along.”
“I don’t care!” Some part of Trixie’s mind was still reeling from the idea that she was conversing with an actual ghost, but her overriding thought was one of immediate departure. “Mart! This is your fault! Give the man his head and let’s go!”
It wasn’t quite as simple as that, but finally, with considerable effort, Mart managed to accomplish the task, dropping Veron’s head into his outstretched hands. “This should not work,” he said, puzzled. “You can’t touch a ghost.”
“Says who?” Trixie demanded. “They aren’t even supposed to be real!”
Before he could answer, there was an unearthly, drawn-out scream from somewhere above. That was enough for the three friends. They bolted from the house, with screams of their own to match the horrifying sound. They didn’t stop until they were down the drive and clambering into Dan’s old van. He fumbled with the keys, but eventually managed to start the engine.
“Go! Go! Go!” Trixie cried. “Get us out of here!”
The wheels spun on the loose gravel, but soon they were back on Glen Road, speeding away from the Lisgard estate.
“So, where are we going?” Vernon asked curiously, appearing at Trixie’s side.
“Holy crap!” Dan cried. “He’s followed us!” He briefly lost control of the vehicle and it served off the road and onto the shoulder.
Trixie squeezed herself up against the door, as far away as possible from their uninvited passenger. “Stop the van! Stop the van! I want to get out!”
“Please understand,” Vernon said reassuringly. “I’m not going to hurt you. I simply need your help.”
“We already helped you!” Trixie told him. “Go – go home!”
“That’s precisely what I want to do! I want to go home. Back to my lovely little bungalow by the river.”
“So what’s stopping you? Go!”
Vernon sighed, adopting a melancholy air. “My wife.”
“Your wife doesn’t want you home? Maybe… ‘cause you’re dead? Last time I checked? That’s the end of your wedding vows.”
“Well, there’s that,” Vernon conceded. “And the fact that she’s the one who killed me. I didn’t find out until it was too late that she has a habit of marrying men and then offing them for the insurance and whatever other assets she can collect. Do you know, I was her ninth husband? Ninth!” He shook his head in disgust, only to have it drop unceremoniously into his lap.
“Dude. You have really got to stop doing that,” Dan said as he pulled his van to a complete stop and shut off the engine.
“I take it she beheaded you?” Mart asked, turning around in his seat.
“She poisoned me first. She cut my head off after that because she couldn’t get my body to fit in the trunk she used to hide me. Only, I wasn’t completely dead yet from the poison, so I guess losing my head did finish the job. It was only by sheer luck that I was able to put myself back together after that, but as you can see, I still have some problems.”
“Mister? You have more problems than my algebra book,” Trixie pointed out darkly. “Your severed head is only one of many.”
Vernon picked up his head and plopped it down on his shoulders. He tilted it first one way, then another, before he seemed satisfied with its position. “This is true. But if you kids can help me… all I need for you to do is get my wife out of my house.”
Mart frowned thoughtfully. “How long ago did your murder happen? Judging by your clothes, I’d say sixty years or more. When’s the last time you even checked? Are you sure your wife’s not dead and gone herself?”
“Are you even sure your house is still standing?” Trixie added. At Vernon’s forbidding look, she held up both hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Just sayin’.”
“My wife died years ago,” Vernon said. “But she refuses to leave my house. It’s a mess. Apparently, you can’t hire a divorce lawyer when you’re dead.”
“So… when you say you want our help evicting your killer wife, you mean you want us to perform an exorcism or something?” Dan shook his head. “C’mon. We wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“All you have to do is tell her to leave or tell her you’ll use one of your spells to banish her to Hell for all eternity.”
“Huh?” Trixie muttered. “We don’t have a Hell banishing spell!”
“I’m sure there’s one in Sarah’s old journal,” Vernon said dismissively. “But it won’t get that far. When she realizes you can see her and have the power of the amulet? She’ll take off. She won’t risk eternal damnation. Not even to keep thumbing her nose at me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vernon Parker’s bungalow was a surprisingly charming little cottage on a bluff overlooking the Hudson. Trixie chewed on her lip as she studied it. “This looks like it’s occupied. By living people.”
“Oh, it is. You can’t expect a gem like this to go to waste,” Vernon said. “That’s not a problem. I can stay here with the current family in residence. They won’t even know I’m around. It’s the wife who’s got to go. There’s definitely not room enough for the two of us!”
“Exactly how are we supposed to get rid of your wife while there are other people here?” Dan asked pointedly. “They may not be able to see you, but they’ll obviously be able to see us. I’m amazed no one’s come out yet and demanded to know what we’re doing on their property.”
“Why don’t I pop inside and see if anyone’s about?” Vernon suggested. “Maybe they’ve gone to dinner in town.”
He vanished instantly. They waited for a full minute, no one sure exactly what to say, before Trixie glanced over her shoulder at the parked van. “You know… now might not be a bad time to take off…”
“Well, that wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do!”
She jumped and spun around. Vernon was leaning through the closed door, frowning severely at her.
“You shouldn’t do that,” she retorted acerbically. “Your head will probably fall off again.”
“Come on, then! Come on. No one’s home. You’re free to enter.”
“We’re free to break and enter, you mean. We can’t just walk through walls, remember?”
Vernon’s gaze went to some point behind her. “Oh, hello, dear,” he said, a clear challenge in his tone. “I’m home.”
“Whoa!” Dan jumped to one side as he became aware of the new figure next to him. “Are you kidding me? You married a Vegas showgirl?”
Vernon’s smile was broad and wolfish. “Are you saying you wouldn’t, too, if you could? May I introduce my bride? Mrs. Margaret Susanna Parker. The prettiest showgirl you ever saw."
“Well… uh…” Dan decided not to point out that probably once upon a time, a young Mrs. Parker likely looked great in her oh-so-revealing dancers' outfit, but as it appeared she’d lived a long life – well into her 90’s – the vision she now presented was nearly as disturbing as Vernon’s detached head.
“Who the blazes are you?” she demanded, her voice harsh with the raspiness of a long-term smoker.
“Vernon. It’s Vernon, Peggy. You remember? Your darling husband?”
“Which one?”
“Nine.”
Peggy paused to consider this. “Oh, yeah,” she said finally. “The one with the mole on his-“
“I’m here to kick you out, my dear,” Vernon cut in quickly. “Time for you to go. Find another husband’s home to haunt.”
“I like this house, and I’m not goin’.”
“Yes. You are.”
Peggy crossed her arms over her sagging bosom. “Oh, yeah? Says who?”
“Says my very good friends here!”
Silence met this pronouncement. For a long moment, they all stood stock still staring at one another. Vernon eventually cleared his throat and cast Mart an expectant look. “This is where you do your part,” he muttered through half-closed lips.
Mart blinked, looking over at Trixie for help and seeing only her blank countenance in return. “Uh… right. So, uh, ma’am… it seems your ex-husband wants you to… uh, vacate the premises. And since you poisoned him and chopped off his head, I’m thinking this is a relatively fair trade.”
“Shut the hell up, kid. No one asked you.”
“That’s my Peggy,” Vernon said with a tight smile. “Always the picture of class. You should listen to him, dearest. He’s a powerful warlock with old Sarah Sligo’s spell book in his possession.”
Peggy looked distinctly unimpressed and unconvinced, and, Trixie thought, who could really blame her? Dressed in an Aeropostale t-shirt, an old gray hoodie, and jeans that had definitely seen better days, Mart hardly looked like a powerful anything, much less someone who could cast a working magic spell.
“Okay. I know he… we don’t look it, but your husband is right,” Dan said. “We really are very powerful, uh… warlocks. And a witch. See this girl? She’s a witch. She could bring down a rain of toads right now if she felt like it.”
Trixie gave Dan the “Are you out of your ever-loving mind?” glare he richly deserved.
“Please. You three probably couldn’t so much as pull a rabbit out of a hat.”
“We can see you!” Mart said, stung by her words, even though on some levels, he agreed with her opinion. “That ought to give you pause, lady. We can see you and talk to you and even…” he broke off, concentrating hard. “… touch you!” he finished, poking her in the arm.
“Watch the hands, buster!” Peggy snarled. “Or you won’t live to regret it!”
“Look. You need to go,” Dan said, reaching into his back pocket. “You don’t have a choice. I’ve got the amulet and my buddy here is more than ready to unleash a spell on you that’ll send your ugly butt straight to Hades.”
For the first time, Peggy appeared at least somewhat nervous.
“So, let’s not make any more fuss, all right? You go find somewhere else to live. Ah… to stay. Old Vern’ll get his house back. And me and my friends will be on our merry way.”
Peggy opened her mouth and let out a wail that Trixie suspected could wake the dead. This was particularly not a good thing in this case, as far as Trixie was concerned, because the last thing she wanted was more dead people showing up to their impromptu shindig.
“Abi statim!” Mart shouted, raising one hand to point at the shrieking apparition.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” Trixie exclaimed in exasperated disbelief. “Bro! You aren’t Harry Potter and you don’t have a freakin’ wand!”
Peggy whirled in Trixie’s direction, her face contorted into a furious mask, but then, without any warning, she disappeared.
Dan scanned the area uncertainly. “That… worked? That really worked?”
“You betcha,” Vernon replied with a delighted chuckle. “The hag is gone! You did it, m’boys! You and the young lady, too. You have my undying gratitude!”
“Er… maybe a different way to phrase that, Vern?” Trixie asked, cringing.
Mart slowly expelled a low breath. “Geezums. Right. So does this mean we’re done here? We’ve helped you and now we can go?”
“By all means. Please do.”
“And you aren’t going to keep following us?”
“I have no plans to do so!”
“Great.” Mart turned to Dan. “Let’s get outta here. I think I’ve had enough of The Crazy for today.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dan parked in the shadow of the Wheelers’ long stable. No one made an immediate move to exit the van. “You sure you wanna come up?” he asked. “Not that I wouldn’t appreciate the company for a while. Uncle Bill’s not due back from White Plains for another coupla hours.”
Trixie and Mart exchanged glances and shrugs. They knew they had chores to take care of, but those concerns seemed very minor compared to the events of the afternoon. They followed Dan up the stairs to the garage apartment he shared with his uncle. Trixie crossed the small den and sank down on the brown leather couch, letting her head fall back. “Am I totally insane?” she asked no one in particular. “Did I finally lose my mind completely? Am I really locked up somewhere under heavy sedation?”
“Probably, possibly, and no,” Mart replied, flopping down next to her. “Today we met ghosts. Real live ghosts.”
“Real dead ghosts,” his sister corrected wearily. “Now what?”
“Now what? I dunno. My whole world’s been turned upside down. It’s gonna take me awhile to fully process and understand this.”
Dan tugged the heavy drapes closed over the room’s only window and turned to face his friends. “We need a plan,” he said solemnly. “If Vernon was telling the truth and Mart’s really set off some spell that’s turned us into Ghost Whisperers, then we have to figure out how to undo it. I don’t know about you guys, but I really don’t want to spend the rest of my life with more days like today.”
“You’ll get no arguments here,” Trixie told him. She reached out and smacked her brother lightly in the back of the head. “Idiot. You got us into this. You better be able to get us back out.”
“Hey! Give me a break. How was I supposed to know this was going to happen?”
“Reading decrepit spell books is never a good idea. Any moron knows that.” Trixie sighed as she spoke. “But now you’re gonna need to keep reading. If we’re going to find a reset spell anywhere, it’s probably also somewhere in that journal. Meanwhile? Let’s keep our heads down and hope we don’t get confronted by any more needy spooks and their murderous dead wives.”
“Uh… maybe you didn’t notice, but I left the journal behind. You know, when we fled the scene?”
“Of course you did.” Trixie groaned and ran a hand through her tangled curls. “Of course. Well, I guess that means you’ll have to go back tomorrow and get it.”
“I’m not going back to that house by myself! Besides, you already said you left your phone there. You’ll have to go back for it.”
“I’ll buy a new one. That one was old and cracked anyway.”
“We’ll all go,” Dan said, stopping the argument before it could escalate any further. “Mart, you need the journal. Trixie, your mom will kill you deader than Vernon if you tell her you lost your phone. And I have to go back, anyway. I work there now. Like it or not, we’re all in this together. We’ll go by tomorrow after school.”
Trixie shot him a doubtful look. “Are we even going to school tomorrow?”
“You want to explain to your folks why you think you shouldn’t? ‘Cause I’m thinking that may actually lead to the whole ‘locked up under heavy sedation’ thing.”
Trixie huffed out a breath and slouched down even further. “Great,” she grumbled. “Just great. I hate Suck Day. And you know life is totally weird when not even ghosts can spare you the real horror of the world. I’ll take dead headless husbands and psycho killer wives over public school any day!”
Trixie Belden was bored. Outside the window, she could see the mid-afternoon sun shining brightly in a brilliant blue sky. It was a perfect autumn day, with temperatures cool enough to need a jacket, but not so cold that misery and frostbite were distinct possibilities. She briefly entertained herself with a mental image of a horseback ride through the Wheeler game preserve, where she had not a care in the world beyond deciding which path to take through the lovely woods.
Unfortunately, her daydream was cruelly interrupted by a strident voice calling the class to attention and announcing a pop quiz.
Of course, she thought with a long sigh. Of course they had a pop quiz. It was Algebra 2, her least favorite class. It was also Wednesday. Bad things always happened on Wednesdays. As far as Trixie was concerned, calling it Hump Day was silly. Suck Day was so much more appropriate and accurate. At least it was 7th period. Once she got through the next half hour, she would be free for the rest of the day - or as free as she could be, considering the chores she still had waiting for her at home on the farm.
She was the first one out of the classroom when the bell rang. At her locker, she crammed her textbook and folder into the jumbled mess, along with her other school books and belongings, and slammed the door shut. She was reasonably sure she didn’t have any homework for the evening, and wasn’t so sure she cared even if she did.
She was just turning around as Daniel Mangan sauntered up and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Have I got an idea you are going to love,” he announced smugly.
She eyed him with no small amount of skepticism. Sometimes, Dan did come up with genuinely great ideas. Other times… not so much.
“No, really,” he continued, grinning broadly at her pronounced frown. “To steal from Honey, it’s ‘perfectly perfect.’”
“The last time you made that claim, I ended up grounded for a week. And you busted my bicycle.”
Dan shrugged at her complaint. “Not my fault,” he said, waving his free hand. “It should have worked. It would have worked, if it hadn’t been for that freak thunderstorm.”
Blowing out a short breath, Trixie slowly nodded. “All right. Let’s hear it. What have you cooked up this time?”
“The theme for this year’s Halloween bash. A Night with Sarah Sligo.”
“Uh… huh?”
“Think about it. We decorate the Lynch mansion to look like Lisgard House. We get the oh-so-delectable Diana to play the role of Sarah. You have to admit, her acting’s really improved since that whole Shakespeare catastrophe a few years ago. Then? We recreate the night Sarah died.”
“She died when a mob of angry villagers burned her alive in her own home,” Trixie pointed out. “Mr. and Mrs. Lynch are pretty easy-going, all things considered, but I think they might draw the line at letting you torch their house in the name of a good party.”
“It’s not like we’d really set the place on fire!” Dan said, waving off this objection. “We just have to form the mob – you know, with pitch forks and torches - and then we storm up to the house yelling about how Sarah’s a witch and has to die.”
“Oh, I can see so many ways where this could all go terribly wrong…”
“I haven’t got to the best part yet.”
“Really.”
Her unspoken wish that he’d pick up on the flat, disinterested tone in her voice went unfulfilled. “Authenticity,” Dan said grandly, his smile widening even more.
“Authenticity? What? You got Sarah’s ghost on speed dial or something? Maybe you forgot, but she died over three hundred years ago.”
“Ha. No. I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting Miss Sligo. In human or ethereal form. But we do have access to the Lisgard estate, so we can go ransack it for items to use for the party.”
“Wait. What? How?” Trixie pushed him away so she could face him fully. She regarded him with a dubious stare. “What do you mean we have access to the estate?”
“So it turns out? The new owners have hired a guy to work as a caretaker. They’ve got some wacky plan to tear down the remains and build a big McMansion or something. Complete with a swimming pool, no less. The construction is supposed to start in the spring. Meanwhile, they’ve said they really don’t much care what happens to anything found on the property now.”
“And you know this how?” Trixie demanded.
Dan thumped his chest. “You’re looking at the new caretaker.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Serious as a dog with a meaty bone. Mr. Gregory called Mr. Wheeler to ask for recommendations for a local guy who would work for cheap-“
“Gosh. And I guess your name came right up?”
“And Mr. Wheeler mentioned how he had an employee with a responsible, hard-working nephew who is diligently saving for college-“
“Miss Trask has a nephew we’ve never heard of? Gee. He sounds wonderful. I’d like to meet him.”
Dan rolled his eyes. “Cute. Uncle Bill agreed with Mr. Wheeler that I’m the perfect man for the job.”
“Probably? That has more to do with getting you out of his way than your suitability as a caretaker. I don’t think Regan ever truly forgave you for the horseshoe incident.”
“That wasn’t my fault, either! That was a great idea before it’s time.” Dan shifted his weight, rocking back on his heels. “Someday, you really will appreciate my inventive genius.”
Trixie shook her head, sending her curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Someday, I’ll probably be actively campaigning to have you committed.” She lifted a hand to wave absently at a passing classmate.
“C’mon, Freckles. You know this is an awesome idea.”
“Hmmm.”
“Come with me today. I’ll be picking up keys from a lawyer’s office and we can go do some exploring. You know you want to. How many times have you mentioned how much you wanna see Lisgard House?”
Trixie bit down on her lower lip. Despite her strong misgivings, he really had her there. For as long as she could remember, she’d always been fascinated by Lisgard House and stories of Sarah Sligo, a young woman who’d fallen victim to the superstitious hysteria of a Sleepyside literally caught up in a witch hunt. Sarah had died a most gruesome death, supposedly swearing she would return for her revenge, and ever since, people periodically made claims to ghost sightings on or near the estate grounds.
“We still have a couple of hours of daylight left…” Dan cajoled. “Think of what we might find.”
“What might we find?” a new voice asked curiously. “And where?”
They both turned to watch Mart Belden stroll up, his expression one that mirrored Trixie’s wary skepticism. She sent her brother a resigned look as he casually leaned up against her locker. “Dan’s got a new job,” she told him. “And an idea. You know. One of those ideas. The kind we always seem to get sucked into.”
Mart’s blue eyes tracked over to Dan. “No. I will not help you hack into the school records. Remember, I’m a White Hat. I only use my powers for good.”
“Hey,” Dan said mildly, “I’ll have you know my grades are all just fine, thank you very much.”
“I know they are. And I’m still not going to help you fail Jerry Vanderhoef or steal Jane Morgan’s home address.”
“He wants to have this year’s Halloween party be Sarah Sligo themed,” Trixie broke in to explain. “And he wants to make it authentic by using real relics from Lisgard House.”
“Which I have legal permission to do, from the current owners of the property,” Dan hurried to add.
Mart considered this for a moment. “It… could work, I guess. I know Di’s been asking everyone about the bash. I think she’s tired of always being responsible for the theme and decorating.”
“That kinda goes along with being the hostess,” Trixie said. “So, no. Really? You’re really on board with this?”
“It couldn’t hurt to check it out.”
Trixie looked back and forth between both boys. “Famous last words,” she intoned darkly. “Just remember Moms has a whole list of stuff for us to do tonight, so we can’t stay out too late.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trixie had never seen Lisgard House up close. Her views of the property had always been limited to brief flashes over the crumbling brick walls that surrounded the estate, glimpsed as she rode past on the bus to and from school. Now that she figured she was in on Dan’s latest scheme, for better or for worse, she found she was eager to finally get inside the estate and take a good look around. She waited impatiently while Dan worked to unlock the rusty gate that blocked access to the winding driveway.
Mart pulled a face as he studied their surroundings. “I know real estate can be pricey in this area, but I can’t imagine anyone paying much for this lot. It’s a disaster.”
“Eh,” Dan replied with a one-shoulder shrug. “It’ll clean up nice. You’ll see.”
“If you say so,” Mart returned doubtfully.
The gate creaked loudly as Dan struggled to push it open. To Trixie, it was an ominous sound. Her eagerness dimmed and she hesitated as the boys stepped forward. “Just for the record… isn’t this how most horror movies start out?”
Chuckling, Mart glanced back at her. “Yes, sister, dear. Of course, since horror movies aren’t real, you can probably quit worrying.”
“I can think of at least seven different reasons why to worry right now,” Trixie retorted, “and I can assure you, the consequences would be very real.” She shook herself and moved to follow them. “Someone has to be the voice of reason here.”
“If I’d wanted a voice of reason along, I woulda invited Honey to join us,” Dan said cheerfully as he pocketed his keys.
They had to pick their way carefully through the weeds and brush. Thorns caught at their clothing and twice Trixie’s hair was snagged by outstretched branches from overgrown shrubbery. The second time, she needed Mart’s help to get free.
They came to a stop at the top of the drive and stood staring up at the dilapidated structure that loomed over them. “Sheesh,” Mart mumbled. “If it’s this creepy during broad daylight, I can only imagine what this place is like at night.”
“Yeah. And look at the broken windows,” Trixie added. “You know what that means. We can expect all sorts of critters have taken up residence inside. Joy.”
Dan rolled his eyes and stomped resolutely up the wide porch steps. “You two are gonna psych yourselves out before you even get through the door. C’mon. We’re burnin’ sunshine, kiddies.”
There was no need to unlock the front door. It hung loosely on bent hinges, swinging inward with little resistance to Dan’s light push. The foyer lay beyond, a contrast of shadows and light. They could see thick dust motes dancing in the air and Trixie’s prediction proved accurate. A startled rat raced across the rotting wood floor, disappearing into the gloom beyond the wide staircase that led to the second floor.
“Be careful where you step,” Mart cautioned. “It wouldn’t surprise me if a floorboard gave out on us.”
For a moment, they hesitated, not entirely certain where to start their tour. “Which way?” Trixie finally asked, glancing over at her brother and friend.
“Let’s try the library,” Mart suggested, pointing to his left. “There’s more light in that room than in here, anyway.”
Dan stepped closer to the open doorway. “I’m betting that has something to do with the gaping hole in the far wall.” He wandered further into the room, not waiting to see if Mart and Trixie followed. “Trix? You’re the Sarah Sligo expert. Don’t the stories say she was trapped here in her library during the fire?”
Trixie shook her head as she approached one of the dust and cobweb-covered bookshelves. It was lined with moldy, disintegrating tomes that gave off a strong, unpleasant smell. “No. She was supposed to be in some sorta secret room off the library somewhere. The villagers trapped her inside, before setting the fire.”
Dan turned in a complete circle, frowning. “The stories can’t be right, then. Look around. There’s no evidence of any burning in here.”
“You gotta remember, the human barbeque took place centuries ago. The house was rebuilt several times since then. It only looks like this now ‘cause it’s been abandoned for a few decades.”
“So you’re saying there could still be a hidden room around here somewhere?”
“So the legends go,” Trixie replied with a small shrug. “Of course, legend also says the place is haunted by a witch’s ghost, so I guess you have to take it all with an ocean of salt.”
Mart reached up and pulled two books from a shelf. He winced as an enormous cockroach skittered away before he let the books fall to the floor with a dull thump. “I think I found the not-so-secret-anymore room,” he said.
The back of the shelf was lined by thin boards that had splintered, leaving a wide crack. Though the light that filtered in from the sun’s rays was fairly weak, they could still make out a small room behind the shelf-lined wall. There was a long table, covered in an assortment of jars, bowls, and ceramic pots, an overturned stool, and some kind of wooden cabinet in the far corner.
“Oh, this is exactly what we were looking for!” Dan exclaimed, grinning. “Way to go, Mart! We’ve been here five minutes and you’ve already discovered Sarah’s secret workshop.”
“Yeah, well, we can see it,” Mart responded, “but how do we actually get in there? I’m not seeing a door anywhere. Are you?”
“There’s got to be some way in,” Dan pointed out reasonably. “We just have to find it.”
For the next several minutes, they searched for a latch or hidden switch that would possibly reveal a door of some kind and allow them access to the workshop. After several unsuccessful attempts, Dan gave in to his frustration and grabbed a metal poker from a bucket near the old fireplace that dominated the library’s one fully standing wall. He swung it overhead, striking the already split boards.
“Whoa!” Mart shouted. “Have you lost your mind? What are you doing?”
Dan paused to look at his friend. “What? You think I could actually make this place look any worse than it already does? Besides, I told you. The new owners are planning a complete demolish anyway.”
Mart exchanged a glance with Trixie, who shrugged and grinned. “Yeah. What he said.”
“But how’s a bigger hole in the shelf gonna help us? Then what?”
“Then? I give your sister a boost and she climbs through to see if she can find a way to open it from the inside.”
Trixie’s expression changed from an amused smile to a narrow-eyed glare. “Excuse me? Do what?”
“Don’t worry, Freckles. You’ll be fine.”
“Uh, huh.”
Dan took another swing, putting all his weight behind it. The poker crashed through the wood and lodged in place. He gave it a sharp tug, and felt the entire shelf shift. “Hey! I think… maybe I’ve got something here. Grab on and pull.”
It took some effort, but then they heard a distinct “pop” and the shelf swung away, revealing a large opening. “I’m betting we just broke the lock,” Mart said, stepping gingerly into the workshop. A cloud of dust kicked up with his footsteps. “Which may be a good thing, because it could prevent us from accidentally getting locked in.”
“I’ll be sure to send an apology note to the owners,” Dan told him, his tone dripping sarcasm. “So? Take a look around. Remember, we’re looking for stuff we could use at the party.”
Trixie grimaced in distaste as she peered at a cloudy jar full of dirt, wondering what purpose it had once served.
“Here’s something,” Mart said as he gently brushed his hand across the cover of a musty journal. “It’s got Sarah’s initials on the cover.”
“Check this baby out!” Dan said at the same time. He held out a tarnished medallion. It was so dull and worn, it was almost impossible to discern any markings on it. “How much d’ya think this is worth?”
Trixie snorted inelegantly. “I knew it. This isn’t about the Halloween bash at all. You’re just looking for a quick way to make a few bucks.”
“It’s not like that! Freckles, you wound me.”
Trixie didn’t bother with a reply. She stepped closer to her brother, peering over his shoulder. “What is it? A diary?”
“I’m not completely sure. It’s old. I can say that much.” He carefully turned a few pages. “Wow. Look at this sketch. Sarah must’ve been really into anatomy.”
Trixie glanced at the drawing he indicated and instantly regretted it. “Okay… that’s a lot more realistic than I ever wanted to see. And that’s definitely not English. I wonder what it says.”
“It’s Latin,” Mart told her. “You know… that stuffy, dead language you’re always complaining about?”
“I complain about it because it’s annoying. Used to be, you were always showing off with the twenty-five cent words when two cent words would serve just fine. Now you annoy us all with Latin.”
Dan flipped his coin up into the air and caught it again. “I’m with Freckles on this one. Why spend time learning a language you’ll never use? You shoulda taken Spanish with me, dude.”
“Understanding Latin helps improve your English,” Mart informed them loftily. He lifted the book so that he could see the crumbling pages better. “And I happen to be the best student in our grade, according to Mrs. Rosebury. Aperi oculos meos, ut videam circa me.”
A gust of wind blew through the open doorway, ruffling the pages of the journal. Trixie’s gaze shifted to the hole in the outer library wall and her brow furrowed as she saw no hint of movement in the foliage beyond. Everything was suddenly silent and still. Not even the insects were stirring. A sense of deep foreboding stole over her.
“Spiritu, qui vocat vos. Innotescite.”
From overhead, there was a loud crash, like the sound of breaking glass.
“Uh, Mart, maybe you want stop that now?” Trixie hissed, her eyes raised to the ceiling. “I’m not sure we’re actually alone here.”
“Calm down, baby sis. You said yourself there’s got to be all kinds of critters living here now. That was probably a raccoon or something.” He inhaled deeply before continuing. “Facere iussus et apparent!”
“Hey!” Dan shouted. He dropped the medallion, shaking his hand. “What the…? It got hot!”
For a long moment, they said nothing, staring at one another. A single crow cawed mournfully from somewhere nearby, but nothing else disturbed the unnatural stillness that had settled over them. Mart finally shook his head. “You’re imagining things,” he said firmly.
“Yeah. Right.” Dan bent down and poked the coin. It was cool to the touch. He frowned slightly. Maybe he was imagining things after all. He picked it up and slipped it into his pocket. “I wanna look around some more. At least on the ground floor. Any takers?”
Mart didn’t respond, his attention back on the journal in his hands. With a sigh, Trixie shrugged. “Have at. I think I’m gonna maybe explore the foyer first. I’m pretty sure there was a cupboard under the stairs.”
“Uh, huh. Well, just so you know, you may luck out and not encounter any rabid rodents, but there will probably be plenty of spiders crawling all over the place.”
“Gee. Thanks for pointing that out.”
They left Mart absorbed in his reading. Trixie went straight to the stairs and opened the narrow closet door as Dan wandered into the formal dining room opposite the library. The sunlight wasn’t reaching far enough in to dispel the darkness in the cupboard, leaving it a black pit. She fished her cell phone from her pocket and tapped the screen. The brightness of her flashlight app caused her to blink several times before she could focus her gaze. She found herself staring at a lump of rotted canvas and an old broom. She smiled slightly. While brooms and witches went hand in hand, this one had a plastic handle. It was definitely old, but not old enough to be something Sarah had once owned. She shut the door and turned back around, supposing she would join Dan as he toured the rest of the downstairs.
A shadowy, indistinct figure suddenly materialized before her, blocking her path. Trixie shrieked in startled fear and surprise. And then, acting on survival instinct more than rational thought, and lacking any other readily available weapon, she lobbed her cell phone directly at the stranger. It sailed across the hall, her aim quite good, and passed harmlessly through the man at forehead level, striking the wall behind him before clattering to the floor.
Although she’d half-expected something like that to happen, she still screamed again. Scrambling backwards, she tripped over a tattered Oriental rug and went down, landing hard on the bottom few steps of the staircase. She realized immediately she was too stunned and scared to be hurt. “Who… what?” she stammered dazedly, not wanting to believe her own eyes.
“I don’t mean you any harm.” The man moved further into the light streaming in through the open front doorway.
Trixie’s mind went blank, unable to fully form coherent thoughts. It was now even more obvious that he wasn’t completely solid. Though he stood there in front of her, she could still make out the wall directly behind him. “Oh. My. God,” she whispered faintly as she pushed herself back to a standing position. “How – how is this possible?”
“Trixie!” Dan hollered, barreling into the foyer, a broken chair leg in his hand, ready to confront whoever or whatever had prompted her terrified shrieks. He passed directly through the man who had been unexpectedly standing in his way and skidded to a halt, looking around wildly. “What the hell…?”
“You know,” the apparition said reprovingly as he solidified even more, “that really wasn’t very nice. You should watch where you’re going.”
“Freckles?”
“Yeah, Dan. I see him.”
“He’s…”
“Semi-transparent? Yep. Dead? I’m thinking that’s also likely.”
The strange man moved forward again. “Vernon. The name’s Vernon,” he said. “Vernon Parker.” He took another step and his head fell off, rolling across the floor to stop at Dan’s feet.
At first, no one moved or spoke, then Dan drew in a ragged breath, stepping to the side to put himself between Trixie and the headless figure. “That? Is wrong on so many levels,” he muttered with a visible shudder. “All levels, as a matter of fact.”
Vernon’s eyes popped open. “Well, darnit,” his head said from its position on the floor. “I really hate when this happens. Can I get one of you to give me a hand here?”
“Uh…” Trixie blinked hard, not sure how else to respond.
Vernon’s body flailed about behind him, arms waving wildly as it stumped helplessly around. “Now would be a good time,” he continued. “Before I accidentally kick myself. You have no idea how hard this is when there’s no one about to help me.”
“Hey, guys!” Mart called as he strolled into the foyer, his gaze still firmly fixed on the book in his hands. “You should hear this-“
“Not a good time, Mart,” Trixie said sharply, wondering how her brother could be so smart and so obtuse at the same time. “And where have you been? Thanks for rushing to my rescue, bro!”
“Out back,” he responded distractedly. “The light in here isn’t really enough to read by.” He paused and frowned. “Rescue?”
“Hello, there,” Vernon said pleasantly. “Could I trouble you for some assistance?”
“Wha-?” Mart look down toward the source of the voice and jumped back with a high-pitched screech. “What?” he cried again. “What?!”
“If you’d just take a moment and return my head to its rightful place?”
“I… I don’t…” Mart’s suddenly nerveless fingers dropped the journal to the dusty floor. “Holy crap!” he breathed. “Holy freakin’ crap!”
“Hey, look,” Dan said slowly, holding up one hand. “You know we’d, uh, love to help and all-“
“No. Really. We wouldn’t,” Trixie cut in sharply. “Ghost, Dan. He’s a ghost!”
“But, yeah,” Dan continued, ignoring Trixie’s interruption. “The thing is… how? I mean, you saw what happened a minute ago. I ran through you. How’m I supposed to pick up your head?”
“You just have to concentrate,” Vernon told him helpfully. “Put your mind to it.”
Dan slowly squatted down. He reached out a hand and cringed as it passed through Vernon’s skull. “Nope!” he exclaimed, rising quickly. “Sorry. You’re on your own, man.”
“M-maybe I could do it?” Mart suggested tentatively.
“Or… and here’s a novel thought,” Trixie said, “maybe we could get the hell out of here?”
“Goodness!” Vernon murmured. “That’s no language for a young lady to employ.”
“Seriously? Seriously? You’re a dead guy with an unattached head and you want to talk to me about my word choice?” Trixie squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “I’m dreaming. Or hallucinating. That has to be it. This cannot possibly be real.”
“No, dear. I assure you I’m real.” Vernon smiled at her. “And I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me?” she squeaked. “What?”
“Well, not you specifically. Waiting for anyone to use the vision spell.”
“Vision spell? Vision spell?” Trixie shook her head hard. “I didn’t use any spell. I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”
“Hmmm. One of you must have recited it,” Vernon said, his expression becoming thoughtful. “Ordinarily, we spirits can’t be seen by live mortals.”
Trixie and Dan turned their gazes on Mart. “This is your fault, bro. You just had to go and read that stuff out loud, huh?”
“Well, that, and you must have the amulet,” Vernon added.
Trixie scowled heavily. “Amulet? Would that by any chance be something that looked like an old coin?”
“The very thing!”
“Right! So… he read the spell, and he has the amulet. I? Have nothing to do with any of this, and you know what? I’m leaving now. Yeah. I’m just gonna walk out that door and-“
“Oh, now! You can’t just walk away,” Vernon admonished her sternly. “The deed is done. You’ve summoned the spirits and now it’s your job to help us. That’s how it works.”
“One? Again, I did not summon anyone. Two? I can’t help you, even if I wanted to, and three? Us? Whadd’ya mean ‘us’?”
“You don’t think I’m the only spirit in need of assistance, do you? We’ve been waiting a long time for help to come along.”
“I don’t care!” Some part of Trixie’s mind was still reeling from the idea that she was conversing with an actual ghost, but her overriding thought was one of immediate departure. “Mart! This is your fault! Give the man his head and let’s go!”
It wasn’t quite as simple as that, but finally, with considerable effort, Mart managed to accomplish the task, dropping Veron’s head into his outstretched hands. “This should not work,” he said, puzzled. “You can’t touch a ghost.”
“Says who?” Trixie demanded. “They aren’t even supposed to be real!”
Before he could answer, there was an unearthly, drawn-out scream from somewhere above. That was enough for the three friends. They bolted from the house, with screams of their own to match the horrifying sound. They didn’t stop until they were down the drive and clambering into Dan’s old van. He fumbled with the keys, but eventually managed to start the engine.
“Go! Go! Go!” Trixie cried. “Get us out of here!”
The wheels spun on the loose gravel, but soon they were back on Glen Road, speeding away from the Lisgard estate.
“So, where are we going?” Vernon asked curiously, appearing at Trixie’s side.
“Holy crap!” Dan cried. “He’s followed us!” He briefly lost control of the vehicle and it served off the road and onto the shoulder.
Trixie squeezed herself up against the door, as far away as possible from their uninvited passenger. “Stop the van! Stop the van! I want to get out!”
“Please understand,” Vernon said reassuringly. “I’m not going to hurt you. I simply need your help.”
“We already helped you!” Trixie told him. “Go – go home!”
“That’s precisely what I want to do! I want to go home. Back to my lovely little bungalow by the river.”
“So what’s stopping you? Go!”
Vernon sighed, adopting a melancholy air. “My wife.”
“Your wife doesn’t want you home? Maybe… ‘cause you’re dead? Last time I checked? That’s the end of your wedding vows.”
“Well, there’s that,” Vernon conceded. “And the fact that she’s the one who killed me. I didn’t find out until it was too late that she has a habit of marrying men and then offing them for the insurance and whatever other assets she can collect. Do you know, I was her ninth husband? Ninth!” He shook his head in disgust, only to have it drop unceremoniously into his lap.
“Dude. You have really got to stop doing that,” Dan said as he pulled his van to a complete stop and shut off the engine.
“I take it she beheaded you?” Mart asked, turning around in his seat.
“She poisoned me first. She cut my head off after that because she couldn’t get my body to fit in the trunk she used to hide me. Only, I wasn’t completely dead yet from the poison, so I guess losing my head did finish the job. It was only by sheer luck that I was able to put myself back together after that, but as you can see, I still have some problems.”
“Mister? You have more problems than my algebra book,” Trixie pointed out darkly. “Your severed head is only one of many.”
Vernon picked up his head and plopped it down on his shoulders. He tilted it first one way, then another, before he seemed satisfied with its position. “This is true. But if you kids can help me… all I need for you to do is get my wife out of my house.”
Mart frowned thoughtfully. “How long ago did your murder happen? Judging by your clothes, I’d say sixty years or more. When’s the last time you even checked? Are you sure your wife’s not dead and gone herself?”
“Are you even sure your house is still standing?” Trixie added. At Vernon’s forbidding look, she held up both hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Just sayin’.”
“My wife died years ago,” Vernon said. “But she refuses to leave my house. It’s a mess. Apparently, you can’t hire a divorce lawyer when you’re dead.”
“So… when you say you want our help evicting your killer wife, you mean you want us to perform an exorcism or something?” Dan shook his head. “C’mon. We wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“All you have to do is tell her to leave or tell her you’ll use one of your spells to banish her to Hell for all eternity.”
“Huh?” Trixie muttered. “We don’t have a Hell banishing spell!”
“I’m sure there’s one in Sarah’s old journal,” Vernon said dismissively. “But it won’t get that far. When she realizes you can see her and have the power of the amulet? She’ll take off. She won’t risk eternal damnation. Not even to keep thumbing her nose at me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vernon Parker’s bungalow was a surprisingly charming little cottage on a bluff overlooking the Hudson. Trixie chewed on her lip as she studied it. “This looks like it’s occupied. By living people.”
“Oh, it is. You can’t expect a gem like this to go to waste,” Vernon said. “That’s not a problem. I can stay here with the current family in residence. They won’t even know I’m around. It’s the wife who’s got to go. There’s definitely not room enough for the two of us!”
“Exactly how are we supposed to get rid of your wife while there are other people here?” Dan asked pointedly. “They may not be able to see you, but they’ll obviously be able to see us. I’m amazed no one’s come out yet and demanded to know what we’re doing on their property.”
“Why don’t I pop inside and see if anyone’s about?” Vernon suggested. “Maybe they’ve gone to dinner in town.”
He vanished instantly. They waited for a full minute, no one sure exactly what to say, before Trixie glanced over her shoulder at the parked van. “You know… now might not be a bad time to take off…”
“Well, that wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do!”
She jumped and spun around. Vernon was leaning through the closed door, frowning severely at her.
“You shouldn’t do that,” she retorted acerbically. “Your head will probably fall off again.”
“Come on, then! Come on. No one’s home. You’re free to enter.”
“We’re free to break and enter, you mean. We can’t just walk through walls, remember?”
Vernon’s gaze went to some point behind her. “Oh, hello, dear,” he said, a clear challenge in his tone. “I’m home.”
“Whoa!” Dan jumped to one side as he became aware of the new figure next to him. “Are you kidding me? You married a Vegas showgirl?”
Vernon’s smile was broad and wolfish. “Are you saying you wouldn’t, too, if you could? May I introduce my bride? Mrs. Margaret Susanna Parker. The prettiest showgirl you ever saw."
“Well… uh…” Dan decided not to point out that probably once upon a time, a young Mrs. Parker likely looked great in her oh-so-revealing dancers' outfit, but as it appeared she’d lived a long life – well into her 90’s – the vision she now presented was nearly as disturbing as Vernon’s detached head.
“Who the blazes are you?” she demanded, her voice harsh with the raspiness of a long-term smoker.
“Vernon. It’s Vernon, Peggy. You remember? Your darling husband?”
“Which one?”
“Nine.”
Peggy paused to consider this. “Oh, yeah,” she said finally. “The one with the mole on his-“
“I’m here to kick you out, my dear,” Vernon cut in quickly. “Time for you to go. Find another husband’s home to haunt.”
“I like this house, and I’m not goin’.”
“Yes. You are.”
Peggy crossed her arms over her sagging bosom. “Oh, yeah? Says who?”
“Says my very good friends here!”
Silence met this pronouncement. For a long moment, they all stood stock still staring at one another. Vernon eventually cleared his throat and cast Mart an expectant look. “This is where you do your part,” he muttered through half-closed lips.
Mart blinked, looking over at Trixie for help and seeing only her blank countenance in return. “Uh… right. So, uh, ma’am… it seems your ex-husband wants you to… uh, vacate the premises. And since you poisoned him and chopped off his head, I’m thinking this is a relatively fair trade.”
“Shut the hell up, kid. No one asked you.”
“That’s my Peggy,” Vernon said with a tight smile. “Always the picture of class. You should listen to him, dearest. He’s a powerful warlock with old Sarah Sligo’s spell book in his possession.”
Peggy looked distinctly unimpressed and unconvinced, and, Trixie thought, who could really blame her? Dressed in an Aeropostale t-shirt, an old gray hoodie, and jeans that had definitely seen better days, Mart hardly looked like a powerful anything, much less someone who could cast a working magic spell.
“Okay. I know he… we don’t look it, but your husband is right,” Dan said. “We really are very powerful, uh… warlocks. And a witch. See this girl? She’s a witch. She could bring down a rain of toads right now if she felt like it.”
Trixie gave Dan the “Are you out of your ever-loving mind?” glare he richly deserved.
“Please. You three probably couldn’t so much as pull a rabbit out of a hat.”
“We can see you!” Mart said, stung by her words, even though on some levels, he agreed with her opinion. “That ought to give you pause, lady. We can see you and talk to you and even…” he broke off, concentrating hard. “… touch you!” he finished, poking her in the arm.
“Watch the hands, buster!” Peggy snarled. “Or you won’t live to regret it!”
“Look. You need to go,” Dan said, reaching into his back pocket. “You don’t have a choice. I’ve got the amulet and my buddy here is more than ready to unleash a spell on you that’ll send your ugly butt straight to Hades.”
For the first time, Peggy appeared at least somewhat nervous.
“So, let’s not make any more fuss, all right? You go find somewhere else to live. Ah… to stay. Old Vern’ll get his house back. And me and my friends will be on our merry way.”
Peggy opened her mouth and let out a wail that Trixie suspected could wake the dead. This was particularly not a good thing in this case, as far as Trixie was concerned, because the last thing she wanted was more dead people showing up to their impromptu shindig.
“Abi statim!” Mart shouted, raising one hand to point at the shrieking apparition.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” Trixie exclaimed in exasperated disbelief. “Bro! You aren’t Harry Potter and you don’t have a freakin’ wand!”
Peggy whirled in Trixie’s direction, her face contorted into a furious mask, but then, without any warning, she disappeared.
Dan scanned the area uncertainly. “That… worked? That really worked?”
“You betcha,” Vernon replied with a delighted chuckle. “The hag is gone! You did it, m’boys! You and the young lady, too. You have my undying gratitude!”
“Er… maybe a different way to phrase that, Vern?” Trixie asked, cringing.
Mart slowly expelled a low breath. “Geezums. Right. So does this mean we’re done here? We’ve helped you and now we can go?”
“By all means. Please do.”
“And you aren’t going to keep following us?”
“I have no plans to do so!”
“Great.” Mart turned to Dan. “Let’s get outta here. I think I’ve had enough of The Crazy for today.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dan parked in the shadow of the Wheelers’ long stable. No one made an immediate move to exit the van. “You sure you wanna come up?” he asked. “Not that I wouldn’t appreciate the company for a while. Uncle Bill’s not due back from White Plains for another coupla hours.”
Trixie and Mart exchanged glances and shrugs. They knew they had chores to take care of, but those concerns seemed very minor compared to the events of the afternoon. They followed Dan up the stairs to the garage apartment he shared with his uncle. Trixie crossed the small den and sank down on the brown leather couch, letting her head fall back. “Am I totally insane?” she asked no one in particular. “Did I finally lose my mind completely? Am I really locked up somewhere under heavy sedation?”
“Probably, possibly, and no,” Mart replied, flopping down next to her. “Today we met ghosts. Real live ghosts.”
“Real dead ghosts,” his sister corrected wearily. “Now what?”
“Now what? I dunno. My whole world’s been turned upside down. It’s gonna take me awhile to fully process and understand this.”
Dan tugged the heavy drapes closed over the room’s only window and turned to face his friends. “We need a plan,” he said solemnly. “If Vernon was telling the truth and Mart’s really set off some spell that’s turned us into Ghost Whisperers, then we have to figure out how to undo it. I don’t know about you guys, but I really don’t want to spend the rest of my life with more days like today.”
“You’ll get no arguments here,” Trixie told him. She reached out and smacked her brother lightly in the back of the head. “Idiot. You got us into this. You better be able to get us back out.”
“Hey! Give me a break. How was I supposed to know this was going to happen?”
“Reading decrepit spell books is never a good idea. Any moron knows that.” Trixie sighed as she spoke. “But now you’re gonna need to keep reading. If we’re going to find a reset spell anywhere, it’s probably also somewhere in that journal. Meanwhile? Let’s keep our heads down and hope we don’t get confronted by any more needy spooks and their murderous dead wives.”
“Uh… maybe you didn’t notice, but I left the journal behind. You know, when we fled the scene?”
“Of course you did.” Trixie groaned and ran a hand through her tangled curls. “Of course. Well, I guess that means you’ll have to go back tomorrow and get it.”
“I’m not going back to that house by myself! Besides, you already said you left your phone there. You’ll have to go back for it.”
“I’ll buy a new one. That one was old and cracked anyway.”
“We’ll all go,” Dan said, stopping the argument before it could escalate any further. “Mart, you need the journal. Trixie, your mom will kill you deader than Vernon if you tell her you lost your phone. And I have to go back, anyway. I work there now. Like it or not, we’re all in this together. We’ll go by tomorrow after school.”
Trixie shot him a doubtful look. “Are we even going to school tomorrow?”
“You want to explain to your folks why you think you shouldn’t? ‘Cause I’m thinking that may actually lead to the whole ‘locked up under heavy sedation’ thing.”
Trixie huffed out a breath and slouched down even further. “Great,” she grumbled. “Just great. I hate Suck Day. And you know life is totally weird when not even ghosts can spare you the real horror of the world. I’ll take dead headless husbands and psycho killer wives over public school any day!”