The Outermost

Rae and Connor Gladwell couldn't be more excited to spend their first summer on their own. The shore, friends, and glamorous nights on the town. If only they didn't have to spend it at The Outermost.

                       Chapter 1

 

            “Connor, come on! You take forever. I swear you’re like a girl!” Rae Gladwell shouted up the stairs of her parents’ Beacon Hill town house. It was warm and her overstuffed duffle bag was already propping open the heavy glass door. She checked her watch again.

She had told her brother to be ready by ten, actually expecting him to be ready by ten thirty, still giving her time to get to Provincetown by 1:00 pm. She knew they probably should have left much earlier, that is if they wanted to beat traffic, but as an 18 year old herself, Rae needed her sleep just as much as any other. This, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that she’d been out to a party until 2 am the night before.

Addie Sarason had thrown a graduation party for their entire class…the party of the year. Almost everyone had shown up, including Ace Quiller, whom Rae had been most eager to see.

Rae had arrived late. Her parents had taken her out to Legal Seafood, her favorite restaurant, after graduation. Besides her high school graduation, they were also celebrating Rae and Connor’s first summer on their own. Their parents were leaving for Tuscany in the morning, while Rae and her younger brother were heading to the seaside getaway of Provincetown for the next two and a half months. They had spent their summers there as a family, but this was the first year that the two would be entrusted to live on their own.  It had seemed like a great idea at the time, which was before they had realized that their pooled resources could only buy them ten weeks at the local hostel instead of the regal Lands End Inn that they had grown accustomed to each of the previous summer.

Rae shook her head as if to clear it, giving her mahogany brown hair a fervent toss.  She parted her glossed lips and bellowed up the stairs once more.

“Connor!! I swear on Grandma Becket’s grave, I’ll kick your a*s if you don’t get down here right now!” She stomped her foot against the polished hardwood. She would do it, too. He knew she would hit him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Rae turned to check her reflection in the hall mirror. She puckered her lips and combed her long, shiny hair with her fingers. She smiled at herself and practiced a seductive face, remembering how she had drunkenly seduced Ace Quiller the night before. Well, seduced was a relative term. They had kissed and then Ace had tried to force himself on her. So, she had kicked him. Hard. Where it hurt. The whole school was talking about it via social media.

She mimed a kiss toward her reflection and turned just in time to avoid getting pummeled by a flying blue duffle bag. She caught it easily and let it drop loudly to the floor.

“Connor!”

A dirty blonde head poked out over the railing. “What? You wanted me to hurry up! And what’s the fastest route between two points?”

“What are you…”

“A straight line!” He laughed. He knew he had her there. He was forever trying to show her up. Rae was smart, yes, that couldn’t be denied. But Connor was smarter.

He perched on top of the highly polished railing and stopped to look around dramatically, in mock terror. “Are mom and dad gone?” He widened his eyes.

Rae exhaled sharply. “Yes.” She took a wide step to the side.

Connor promptly let go and went sailing down the slick wooden railing. He yelled as he flew easily through the air and onto his sneakered feet. He brushed himself off, still overdramatizing, and nodded to his sister. He grabbed his bag and pushed past her to the door. He held it open. “Come on, come on. I don’t have all day, ya know.”

Rae scrunched her nose and mouth together in quiet exasperation. Her brother would be the death of her one day, she was sure of it. She really didn’t know if she would last for ten weeks…or if he would.

There was traffic on the MA-3, but Rae made good time. Connor drowsed through most of the two and half hour trip, but woke up right around Chatham, muting his mp3 player and removing his glasses to stare out at the familiar Nantucket Sound. They stopped after the Conwell Street exit and Rae whipped out her cell phone to check on Justine Hamilton, a friend from cheerleading who would be spending the summer with them.

“Hey, b***h! Where are ya??” Rae asked, twirling her hair. Connor glanced quickly and disgustedly in her direction.

A chipper, high-pitched voice answered, “Rae! Ah! Where you guys at?”

“Just coming into P-town, now. Are you still stuck in traffic?”

“No, girl, I’m here! Got here about fifteen minutes ago. I met your friend, Matt, by the way. He’s kinda cute…in an offbeat way. He’s been talking to the lady at the restaurant this entire time, though. Weird. She’s not even pretty.”

“Cindy,” Rae and Connor answered in unison. Rae shot a knowing glance in Connor’s direction.

“Yeah, she’s like…old. Anyway, turn down Commercial and pick me up.”

“Okay, I think I see you. Ooohh look at you! Okay, bye.” Rae pulled into a spot in front of Bayside Betsy’s, their home away from home.

The restaurant was owned by Robbie Stoker, one of their dad’s oldest friends from law school. Robbie had moved out to Cape Cod after twenty years practicing law, fed up with a life of corruption. So, he had taken over Bayside Betsy’s along with a number of other beachside bars and restaurants and Rae and Connor had been working for him for the past three summers. But this year would be different. Rae would be bartending instead of hosting and Connor would be waiting tables instead of washing dishes.

The two leapt out of the car gratefully. A tall, dark-haired girl flitted her bikini-clad body across the street and swept Rae into a tight hug.

“Ahhh,” she shrieked. “I’m so happy we’re here!” She shook Rae from side to side, staring out at the white-sand beach.

“I know, finally right?” Rae took a step back, “Wow have you just been walking around the street in that bathing suit?” She surveyed the tight, strategically-placed hot pink material and the way it hugged Justine’s dark skin.

“Yeah, well I thought it would be smart to make a good first impression, you know? Right off the bat…just show ‘em what they’re up against. Ha-ha!” She cackled.

Rae shook her head and smiled. “Come on, let’s go in and say hi.”

She steered them toward the restaurant. Connor lagged behind, not exactly heartbroken that he’d been ignored. He was used to it. Rae’s friends usually acknowledged him as her “cute little brother” and said things like “oh my god, Connor, you’re gonna be so hot when you get older,” or “Oh, Connor, you’re so lucky to have Rae as a sister. You get to hang out with all of us hot chicks!” And they would laugh and pinch his cheek and then they would promptly ignore him.

He preferred it that way. Justine was no longer impressed with Connor’s jokes or his “Zack Morris hair” as she had called it. It was fine. He was looking forward to hanging out with Matt and his friends this summer, anyway.

The three trudged up the short ramp to enter the electric blue and white building. Connor noticed Matt’s painted red bike tethered to the telephone pole, despite the fact that the bike rack was empty. He smiled.

Inside, the smell of burgers and Betsy’s internationally acclaimed chowder wafted through them. A short bull of a nineteen-year-old boy leaned far over the front counter, in hushed conversation with the receptionist. He ran a hand over his closely-cropped dark hair and turned to face them.

“Yo! Look who finally made it! Thought you kids had gotten lost!” He fixed them with his smiling green eyes and held his muscular arms wide. Rae gave him a devilish smile and leaped into his arms.

“Matt, you haven’t changed at all.” She shot him a knowing glance.

“What’d you expect, kid? Huh? Mmm, you’re looking ravishing. Ohh and who’s your friend?” His voice dropped an octave as he mocked pushing her aside to eye Justine from head to stiletto. “Enchante,” he curled his lip and reached for her hand. Justine looked a bit taken aback, looking to Rae for understanding.

“Yo, Matt! What am I fried calamari?” Connor shouted from the door. He put on his best Tony Soprano voice.

“Ahh, my main man!” Matt perked up, dropping Justine’s hand for the time being. “Oh the fried calamari! Is it summer again, already? Wasn’t it just yesterday that we were gagging over that stuff?” He laughed heartily, grabbing Connor’s outstretched hand and pulling him in for a tight hug. “Dude, you’ve grown like a foot. What are you like fifteen now? Oh, s**t. Your birthday’s like this week, isn’t it? Damn, dude. The ladies are a-waitin’!” He tousled Connor’s dirty blonde hair.

“So, uh…you guys remember Cindy.” Matt stepped back to reveal the lady at the desk. They did remember her.  They had only worked with her for the past three years. She had been the source of quite a bit of drama at Betsy’s actually. Last year, Matt had spent the entire summer shamelessly courting the thirty-seven-year-old divorcee. By August, she had given in, even going so far as to sneaking Matt into the Squealing Pig and buying him Sam Adams all night and accompanying him to the end-of-summer block party where they promptly made out in the alley for hours.

She wasn’t unattractive. She might have been almost beautiful once. But currently she was a bit too tan, too blonde, and too…well, artificial. Rae noted two new additions to the Cindy canvas…two very large additions, not at all covered by the too-tight Bayside Betsy’s tank top she was squeezed into.

“Of course. Cindy, how’ve you been?” Rae addressed her.

Cindy nodded, scrunching the left side of her face. Rae assumed that meant hello.

“Err, this is my friend Justine Hamilton. I think you two may have met. She’ll be waiting tables with Connor this year.”

Cindy eyed Justine and settled back into her chair with a “humpf.”

“Okay, then. We’re gonna go check in. Matt are you sticking around? Right, never mind.” Matt had gone back to holding Cindy’s hand above the counter and whispering into her ear. Rae turned on a heel and ushered everyone out.

 

           Chapter 2

 

            They arrived at the hostel in no time at all. Rae turned down Winslow Street and scrunched her nose in mild distaste at the road sign.

She remembered the conversation she had had with her parents a month before. They had tried to discourage the two from going to Provincetown for the summer, going so far as to “put their foot down,” but Rae had thrown an absolute fit. She wasn’t proud of it, but she had gotten her way, nonetheless. Her last childish act had been successful in that they were here and now had an opportunity to showcase their maturity. Even if it did mean staying at the hostel, due to their father’s challenge that “mature adults pay for their own vacations.” This was yet another one of his “value of the dollar” lessons. Sure, Rae had stated. Of course they would pay.

Of course they would pay. She was this close to eating her words as she turned into the parking lot and stopped in front of the main “office.”

Office? The sign seemed almost sarcastic. The words “hippie shithole” came to mind. She laughed but didn’t share this with the others. Connor was already hopping out of the truck and trudging up the rickety steps.

Fifteen minutes later, they were marching across the overgrown grass to cabin 3. Justine exited the car and ran to meet them as they passed. She hadn’t wanted to go into the office. It was just as well. Old Mr. Cochran would have found her to be a bit…inappropriate.

“Cabin 3, huh? So what are the chances it’s all a big ruse and it’s like…the penthouse inside?” Justine’s sarcasm seemed to brighten her.

“Or maybe,” Connor brightened overdramatically, “It’s like in Harry Potter when they go into a miniscule tent that turns out to be this gigantic multi-room apartment inside. Like with a kitchen and a living room and a bedroom, and all!”

“Right. That’s really gonna happen.” Rae shot down his idea, but fired him a loaded look. She had seen the movie too. It was one of her favorites.

They got to cabin 3 and were not surprised to find it just as they would have pictured from the outside. It was a lot cleaner than they had imagined, but there were a few issues nonetheless.

“Bunk beds?” scoffed Justine. “I have to sleep in…Rae! What the f…” She started. She put a hand on Connor’s head, “Sorry.” She still thought of him as a kid.  “Well, I’ve got bottom.”

“Bottom? Why? No one ever wants bottom.” Connor said.

Justine dropped her duffel bag onto the thin green comforter. She rolled her eyes, “In case I have a gentleman caller…and well, you know how it is.” She smiled devilishly.

“Ugh. Okay Rae you’re with her.” He mocked disgust and retreated to the other bunk. He threw his bag on the bottom and hopped to the top in a single bound. His fake snoring filled the room.

Connor eventually really did fall asleep and the girls used the time to unpack and to shower and get ready for the evening. The facilities weren’t bad, though the hot water ran out after about ten minutes and there was a series of squeaks and thumps coming from some of the pipes that ran along the wall and into the ceiling.

Connor woke to find both girls dressed to kill and on the front porch sipping wine from crystal glasses. He hopped quietly to the floor and noted the new mini fridge in the front corner of the room. He peeked inside and found a 1998 Cheval Blanc, a six-pack of Cape Cod IPA, and three apples. He shook his head and grabbed a bottle of the local pale ale.

He started toward the door, but took a moment to glance around the room. White walls, white bunk bed frames, green blankets. It was all pretty standard. He sipped his beer, tasting the full-bodied, hoppy liquid. Even at fifteen, Connor could appreciate a good beer. He often drank with his dad back home. It was an “important right of passage” his dad had said. “A man can’t go into the world without being able to appreciate certain things.”

Apparently, fine wines and alcohol were among those things. Such teachings weren’t lost on Rae either, he noted. He didn’t know how she had gotten her hands on the expensive bottle of wine or the beer, but he didn’t feel like asking.

Connor’s eyes followed the angles of the room, but stopped at the full-length mirror in the back corner. It was out of place. He couldn’t explain what exactly was off about it, but it gave off a strange vibe. He crossed the room and stopped in front of it. He touched the cracked silver frame with one index finger, running it along the top. His finger came away caked with dust. He sipped his beer and stared at his reflection. His khaki shorts and green t-shirt looked wider than usual, but his neck and head looked oddly elongated. He finished his beer in one large gulp and shuddered. The mirror gave a sort of fun-house effect.

Connor stared at himself and attempted to smooth his unruly blonde hair. It was then that he saw something move within the mirror. A single black shape seemed to waver back and forth deep within. Back and forth, back and forth. Was it his imagination, or did he hear a slight tapping noise to go along with it?

No, he wasn’t imagining things. The tapping was getting louder, angrier. The movement of the thin black shape was gaining speed now, getting bigger, smaller, bigger, smaller. A loud crack erupted behind him and Connor jumped, dropping his beer bottle loudly onto the wooden floor.

His breathing intensified. He couldn’t hear anything above the beating of his heart. Backed into the corner now, he stole a glance at the mirror. There was nothing there.

“Connor?” Rae stood holding the porch door open. “What are you doing? Is that empty?” She pointed to the bottle on the floor.  He nodded.

She eyed him suspiciously. “I think the tree outside just fell down or something. I’m going to get Mrs. Cochran. Are you okay? What the hell?”

Connor’s eyes shot to the window in the bathroom. Of course. The window was right across from the mirror. He bent to pick up the empty bottle and tossed it lightly into the can across the room.

“You’d better be careful with those, pretty boy.” Justine remarked. Connor rolled his eyes and strode over to grab another one.

“You be careful with those.” He pointed at her chest with the neck of his beer bottle.

She laughed, adjusting the plunging neckline of her sparkling dress. “Hmm, touché.” She had no shame.

                                                            Chapter 3

 

The three ventured out to Commercial Street, the main drag in town. The girls strutted their slightly tipsy and spiked-heeled selves the half-mile to Atlantic House with Connor in tow.  The bumping techno music flooded the crowded streets and Rae and Justine had to shout to be heard. After they rounded the corner and joined the onslaught of drag queens and intoxicated women, Connor waved good bye and stalked off toward MacMillan Wharf. The air was warm and breezy and smelled of seawater and funnel cakes. The vendors and small doe-eyed children had given way to the intensity of the real P-town social scene.

            Connor walked along the pier, staring past the bright lights to the yachts and fishing boats bobbing in the water. He ran a hand through his windswept hair and came away with a blob of hair product, which he promptly wiped on his ripped jeans. He checked his cell phone. It was nine forty-two.

            “Check you out, Matt Damon.” A voice boomed behind him.

            Connor smiled but didn’t turn from the wooden railing. “You’re late.” He shook his head dramatically. “So, did you bring it?” He kept his voice low.

            “Sure did mah brotha. Or should I say Mr. Lando Calrissian?”

            Connor spun around in a flash. “Lando Calrissian?! You idiot! That’s a character from Star Wars!” He snatched the small brown bag from Matt’s outstretched hand and ripped out the Massachusetts driver’s license. The ID held his own picture. It was last year’s school picture. He had emailed it to Matt a month ago.

            Connor’s eyes scanned the information: Lando Calrissian, 2101 Kirkland Street, Cambridge, Massachusetts. “You idiot! You absolute…mother…Ugh!” Connor threw up his hands and turned around to lean exasperatedly on the wooden railing.

            “What? Hey, you should be thanking me! This makes you twenty-two. You can get into all of the bars in P-town with that. Hell, you can get into all the bars in the world!” He laughed. “So, what’s the problem?”

            “Let’s see. Well, besides the fact that this makes me a character from Star Wars, my address also happens to be at Harvard University.” He flicked the card six inches from Matt’s naïve-looking face.

            “Ha! Does it really? So, say you’re from Harvard!”

            “Nobody’s from Harvard. You can’t just live at Harvard.”

            “Sorry, so say you go to Harvard. Say you’re the next Stephen Hawking, only better looking.”

            “He went to Oxford.”

            “Doesn’t matter. Hey, you can work this! I know it dude. Chicks will eat that up. And anyway, I’ll be your wingman. No worries.” Matt clapped a hand on Connor’s back and pulled at his shirt by the collar. “Just pop your collar like this…and you’re good to go. Let’s do this.”

            Connor exhaled sharply and followed in Matt’s wake. The two headed toward the Squealing Pig. The place was jam-packed with college kids and Matt and Connor slipped easily into the crowded tavern. A live band played loudly from the corner as they moseyed up to the bar.

            “What’s that say? Lando? Is that your name?” Asked the bartender. She was in her late twenties, dark hair, fake breasts, red lipstick. Mildly attractive, if you liked that sort of thing.

            Connor nodded, lifting his eyebrows and tilting his head in an intellectual stare. His heart pounded.

            “Yeah,” Matt leaned in to intervene. “It was supposed to be Landon, but his mom died after giving birth to him. She never got a chance to finish it.”

            Connor’s blood pounded through his veins. He wanted to punch his ignorant friend in the face.

            “Oh that’s so sad.” The waitress bought it. There was something to be said about the level of naivety in P-town. “So what can I get for you Mr. Calrissian? Mr. Salinger?” She replaced their IDs on top of the bar.

            Matt grabbed his and locked eyes with the gullible waitress, “Call me J.D.”

            “Oh Christ.” Muttered Connor.

            The waitress leaned in toward Matt’s suntanned and artfully manipulating face. “And what exactly would you like, J.D?”

            “Well what I want isn’t exactly on the menu, miss. But why don’t we start with a couple of Sam Adams drafts and an order of oysters and see where we end up?” He winked and slapped a twenty on the bar.

            Three and a half hours later, Connor trudged through the parking lot at the Outermost and nodded toward Matt as he headed to cabin 5 where he was staying. He stalked crookedly toward his own cabin and collapsed onto the thin bottom bunk. He wasn’t going to make it to the top. Not tonight.

                       Chapter 4

 

            The three made it through their first shift back at Bayside Betsy’s. The owner, Robbie, outfitted them with the season’s uniforms: bright red polo shirts. Connor shrugged. Rae and Justine gave a collective cringe. How were they supposed to get tips wearing polo shirts?

            Rae took her place behind the bar, familiarizing herself with the various drafts and bottles, cocktails and mixers. The resident bartender, Patricia, had taken the time to show her the ropes and Rae was feeling fairly confident.

            By about four o’clock that afternoon, Rae was eating her words. A sudden influx of eager tourists had the place abuzz. She wasn’t sure if it was the natural course of things, or Justine’s bright idea to flaunt her body out front. To be fair, she had offered to sweep the steps and sidewalk, but Rae had gotten a kick out of her ridiculous antics nonetheless. But then again, this was P-town.

            Crowds filled the restaurant from bright blue wall to jam-packed mahogany bar. Somewhere amidst the throng of out-of-towners and day-trippers were Rae and Justine, manically trying to meet every need, while Connor helped Robbie in the kitchen and Cindy…well, Cindy did her usual scowling and absent-minded nail filing.

            By the end of that night, they were all covered in beer, grease, clam chowder, and hot sauce. They were completely spent. And it was only a Sunday.

            The rest of that week flew by in a blur of glaring sunlight, cocky Boston accents, and insatiable appetites. Lucky for Rae, it was also filled with alcohol-consumption and all that came with it. Namely, tips.

            By Friday evening, she was grateful for nothing more than the quiet solitude of her worn, comfy bunk and the whir of the muted ceiling fan above her. Connor was helping Matt finish a few orders in the kitchen. A party of ten had walked in fifteen minutes before the end of their shift and had ordered every difficult item on the menu.

Justine was at the liquor store downtown. Though she had an excellent fake ID, she had sweet-talked the attractive counter-help on the day they’d arrived and, since then, had made three return visits. In addition to thinking that she was 23 years old, he also probably thought she was an alcoholic.

            Rae smiled to herself, thinking of the money she’d made over the past week. She didn’t need it, not technically. She had more money than she could hope to spend in one summer. After all, graduation was a much-appreciated thing in the Gladwell family, and nothing said appreciation like a sizable check. Her parents had also set aside a great deal of money for she and her brother, some of which she had taken ownership of on her 18^th birthday.

Connor didn’t know this. This was one of the reasons why they were in the current predicament. Rae had been uncomfortable abandoning Matt, as he had suggested the Hostel in the first place. It was much more suited to his meager funds.

And though it wasn’t common knowledge, Rae actually enjoyed managing her money. She was like her dad in that way.

She sighed and flipped absent-mindedly at a magazine. One of Justine’s, which translated roughly to brainless, classless crap. She was tired of it. She started to toss the glossy pages away when she heard a slow creaking sound coming from behind her.

She stopped, her breath caught in her throat. The low, thin creaks were followed by a hollow thwap of plastic against something hard. The pulse of blood in Rae’s temples blocked out all other sound. She dared not move, lying ramrod-straight on her bunk, conscious of the empty space below her and her imminent vulnerability.

Her eyes scanned the part of the room that was in view. Unfortunately, it was the wrong part. She clenched her jaw and wished that she could see behind her. Shadows danced along the bare wooden walls, thrown from the ceiling fan revolving above her head.

Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. Finally, Rae gathered the resolve to turn her head and rise to a sitting position, all in one fell swoop. Her hair stood on end as she shot a panicked peek at the rest of the cabin.

Everything seemed in order. Connor’s bunk was empty except for a book and a pair of glasses. The rest was bare. Rae took a few deep breaths and quickly leaned far over the railing, eyes flashing to the bunk below her. Nothing. Her breathing started to slow and she laughed out loud.

When she reached the floor, Rae shook her head and tiptoed to the back of the cabin. She pulled the dusty white curtain to the side, peering through the window at the overgrown grass and wildflowers. The sun had just set behind the trees. She spun around on a heel and checked herself in the odd-looking mirror that hung from the wall, straight down to the floor.

The mirror. She couldn’t explain it, but something was off. She stepped forward, not sure what she was looking for. The painted white frame hung haphazardly from the stark wall. It could have been her imagination, or her overtaxed nerves, but there was something…wrong…about it. She tilted her head to the side. Had that crack been there before?

                       Chapter 5

 

            Connor left early to meet up with Matt outside the main house. Apparently Matt and good old Mr. Cochran were like “this.”

            Rae and Justine were headed out on the P-town “strip” as they had begun to call it. Armed with stellar black dresses and a bottle of nondescript red wine, the girls strutted toward Commercial Street and talked absentmindedly about their week.

            “This wine is really terrible,” Justine interjected as Rae recapped her experiences with disgruntled martini-drinkers.

            “No, it’s not that bad...” Rae choked as she took another swig and passed the bottle to Justine. “You’re right. It’s terrible. What made you get this?”

            “I didn’t! You think I would actually buy this cheap crap?” She thrust her nose into the air. “TJ gave it to me. Threw it in for free.” She winked and thrust her hip to the side.

            “Oh, TJ, huh?” Rae nodded dramatically. “He has good taste.” She took another swig of the dark, biting red liquid.

            “He does.” Justine nodded knowingly. She grabbed the bottle. “He asked me out. He’s coming tonight.”

            “Great.” Rae concentrated on navigating the dark, uneven sidewalk with her four-inch heels. They walked in silence, swigging the borderline acidic wine.

            “So, something sort of happened earlier...and it’s been bothering me a little bit.” Rae began.

            “What?”

            “Well, I was back in the cabin, just lying down, you know, reading a magazine.”

            “And?”

            “Well, I heard this eerie creaking noise from behind me…coming from the window. Well, I thought it was the window. At the time, I was really scared. It almost felt like someone was watching me. And then all of a sudden, there was a kind of…like a ‘whack’ sound. And then it stopped.”

            “A whack? You were lying in the cabin and you heard a ‘whack’?” Justine began to laugh. Rae knew where she was going with this. “Maybe it was Matt in the next cabin.” She began to giggle uncontrollably.

            Rae could see she wouldn’t be getting anywhere with this. Not with Justine. She should have foreseen that.

            She gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Forget it. It was stupid. Anyway, I checked it out and it was nothing. There was nothing back there.”

            Justine’s giggles subsided. “Ok. Cool.”

            “That mirror though…Have you ever looked in that mirror?”

            “Yeah I freakin’ hate it! Makes me look fat.”

            “Yeah, tell me about it.” She paused. “No, but there’s something off about that thing. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s just weird. Like out of place, you know?”

            “Whoa, slow down Nancy Drew.” Justine threw her hands up defensively.

Rae forced a feeble smile and pushed the idea from her head. She took another deep pull from the bottle of vinegary solution, finishing it. Her head was beginning to get fuzzy already. Finally, they stepped off of the shadowed street and onto the “strip.” The liquor store guy was waiting for them on the bench outside of the club. His spiked hair and sharp features gave him a severe look. Rae wrinkled her nose. He was clutching a bottle of the same red wine.

 

Chapter 6

 

            The girls stumbled into the parking lot of the Hostel to find Connor and Matt sitting on the steps of their cabin, puffing at oversized cigars.  The place reeked of heavy smoke and Connor looked like he was going to be sick.

            “What the hell are you doing, little bro?” Justine pointed a shaky finger at Connor and went into a fit of giggles.

            Connor cringed with distaste. He hated when she pretended they were anything more than forced acquaintances. His eyes watered as he puffed theatrically. “Y’wouldn’t understand, babe.” He exhaled and surveyed the girls’ disheveled dresses and spiky heels, which were now held in their hands, rather than strapped to their tired feet. “Mmm…rough night?”

            Rae shot him a look that said ‘don’t ask’ and pushed past the boys to the cabin and her highly anticipated bunk, despite Matt’s calls, appealing to her to have another drink with him. She ignored his pleas. Instead, Justine remained outside.

            Only a few measly hours later, Rae was awoken with a start.

A hollow crash reverberated in her head. Her heart beat uncontrollably as she tried to decide if the sound had been a part of her dream or if it had come from behind her, as she suspected. She took a deep, labored breath and whipped her head around, her eyes squinted shut. Once again, there was nothing there.

            Connor was awake too, and already jumping down to the worn wooden floor. Rae started to ask him if he had heard that, too.

            “Shhh!” He cautioned as he moved closer to the back of the cabin.

            Rae began to descend the ladder. Justine was sitting upright, clutching the blanket to her body, frowning at the empty space beside her. Rae noted that Justine’s dress lie on the floor, along with her bra and underwear.

            Rae cleared her throat, forgetting her terror for a moment. “Where’s Matt?”

            “How did you?” Justine started. “Oh, he had to go. Don’t look at me like that! I’m single. What? It wouldn’t kill you to enjoy yourself every once in a while!”

            Rae smiled and shook her head, wiping her eyes as she looked to where Connor was investigating.

            “So what was that noise, anyway?” Justine slipped an oversized t-shirt over her head and began to walk toward Connor.

            “I don’t know. It really freaked me out, though. I was having the strangest dream at the time. At first, I wasn’t even sure if I was hearing something from my nightmare or not.” Rae shook her head.

            Justine turned back with a quizzical look. “Nightmare? Yeah…I was having one too. Weird.”

            “If you girls are finished comparing dreams and braiding each other’s hair, why don’t you come look at this?” Connor beckoned to them. He stood in the pale light from the window with one hand extended toward the corner of the room. As the girls grew closer, they realized that he was standing in front of a low, extremely narrow doorway. A doorway that hadn’t been there before.

            Rae’s heart pounded through her chest. A million realizations rained down on her trembling body. All at once, she remembered the dream so vividly.  The three of them standing at the entryway to an unspeakable place. The scene was straight out of her nightmare. Only this was reality. She swallowed hard and backed away.

            “Where the hell did this come from? Oh, don’t even tell me this was what was behind that freakin’ mirror!” Justine choked. She backed away, alongside Rae. “This s**t happened in the dream I just had.” She clapped a hand to her gaping mouth.

            Connor’s eyes took on an intense quality. Rae studied his silent face. There was something hidden there. He had experienced this before, too. She was sure of it.

            He swallowed hard and took a step toward the gaping rectangular hole in the cinder-block wall. The inside blocks weren’t painted white like the rest. The three stared through the gray stone entryway to the inky blackness beyond.

            All of a sudden, a sharp scratching echoed through the space, causing them to jump backward. Justine stifled a scream.

            Soft tinkling music danced forth and Justine straightened up, smoothing her raven-black hair. They stood, taking in the odd sounds of simple trumpet playing and shaking their heads nervously, confused.

            Justine was the first to speak, loud and angry. “This if freakin’ ridiculous! What the hell is going on here? What do they think this is, some sort of peep show?! I knew old Cochran was slimy but this is…” She trailed off, balling up her fists.

            “What are you talking about?” Rae whispered.

            “Oh please! He’s obviously been spying on us through this opening. I bet this leads right to the main house!” She shook her head, clenching her lips together until they lost color. “Oh s**t! I bet this was one of those 2-way mirrors!”

            “One-way,” Connor interjected in a hushed monotone.

            “Right. Whatever. I’m goin’ in there.” She announced as she ducked her head and swung one bare foot into the narrow opening. Rae grabbed for her friend’s arm and breathed a desperate plea for her to stop. She didn’t know what this was, exactly, but she had an extremely bad feeling about it. Connor seemed to share the same apprehension. His eyes hadn’t moved from the hidden passageway since he’d discovered it.

            Connor glanced at his sister and then turned to trail in Justine’s wake. Rae hissed at him to come back, but resolved to follow. Her whole body trembled as she ascended the stone steps. She didn’t want to go, but she didn’t want to be left alone.

            The trumpet grew louder and was now accompanied by soft flute playing. The sounds echoed off of the rough brick walls as they ascended further. Rae shook her head, terrified. This just didn’t add up. Until a few minutes ago, they had been staying in a one-story shoebox of a cabin. Now suddenly there was a hidden entryway and stairs that led up to…where? There was nowhere left to go. 

            She pinched her own forearm as she took a few more steps and began to see the outline of something rectangular ahead. She wasn’t dreaming. She confirmed that.

Connor had stopped up ahead. She couldn’t see past him too well, but could make out a doorknob and the open white door it was attached to. The music was louder now, like it was coming from a few feet away.

Suddenly, she began to hear soft shuffling footsteps.

Connor turned to face her. Rae was shocked to see a look of terror on his normally stoic face. All she could do was shake her head and grab his outstretched hand. He pulled them onward, pushing back the door a little further.

 

           Chapter 7

 

Connor tugged Rae into a brightly lit, low ceilinged room with a dark wooden floor and exposed beams. There was no furniture, only a large old fashioned trunk and an antique record player that spun the sounds of old renaissance music, echoing too loudly in the stark space.

She spun around, mystified.  That was when she saw Justine.

For the last time.

Justine stood at the opposite end of the room and faced the empty corner. Her arms hung prostrate to her side. The veins in her neck were bulging. Her black hair obscured her face and she wasn’t moving.

Rae took a step toward her, shaking her head methodically as she went. A tear streaked down her face. She knew that something was wrong. She stood behind her friend and racked her brain for any reason why she would be here, standing the way she was. There was something so unnatural. She reached out and grabbed her by the arm.

Immediately, she leapt backward through the air with the sting of a jarring electric shock. She rubbed her tingling hand. Justine’s skin was red-hot to the touch.

Rae cried openly now. She couldn’t control it any longer. “Justine?”

No answer.

“Justine, what’s going on?” She clapped a hand to her mouth and felt the tears streaming down her face. Her right hand reached out to grab the shoulder of the oversized t-shirt Justine wore. She exhaled quickly and pulled.

“No!” Connor yelled from behind her.

Justine spun around, her body stiff and unyielding. Her face twisted in agony and horror as she lost her footing and tumbled straight into Rae’s unsuspecting arms. She was forced backward under Justine’s dead weight and toppled onto the old wooden trunk along the wall. Rae felt a series of electrical currents course through her body as she attempted to cradle her friend.

All of a sudden, the pain ceased and Justine melted into Rae’s arms. Her brown eyes looked, horror-stricken, into Rae’s.

“What? Justine? What happened? I don’t understand!” She sobbed.

The sound of the creaking door prompted Justine to whimper and peer across the room. Rae gazed through tear-soaked eyes along the worn floor to the space behind the door, which had just been tightly shut. But that wasn’t what caused her heart to stop beating.

Now in plain view was an old, craggy white-haired woman dressed in a dark brown dress that hung in rags to the floor. She hunched forward in an awkward, menacing stare and her long strands covered the thick skin of her pale face. She seemed to tremble violently all over and Rae realized with horror that she was laughing. A fresh set of sobs spilled forth as she clutched Justine’s body to her chest and began once more to shake her head again and again.

The snarled woman spoke.

“Hmm. Pleased to meet you, Rae Marie. My, you’re a pretty one. Almost as pretty as your friend here.” She clicked her tongue and took a few long strides toward where the girls lie collapsed between the dusty trunk and the wall. “I’ll give you two a moment.” She smiled sadistically and crossed her long hands across her bony chest.

“Rae.” Justine choked through terrified sobs. “I’m sorry.” She seemed to fight for breath as Rae clutched her tighter. The girls locked eyes for one final moment before Justine’s closed and the anguish left her tired face.

“Justine!” Rae screamed. “No! Justine, Justine! No, no, no, no.” She pulled her friend’s head up to her neck and rocked back and forth.

“Yes, remarkable, is it not?” The repulsive old woman stepped forward once again, filling the room with her strained but confident voice. “The last moments are always the most telling.” She snickered.

“You! You did this?” Rae swallowed hard. “You did this! Why?” She howled.

“Oh ho! It is what I do, my dear. I weigh and I measure, and she…it pains me to say…was not of the right caliber.” She smiled. “Just pray thou does not fair the same.”

Rae’s stomach churned as she took in the decrepit old woman’s amusement. She curled her thick pale lips and narrowed her eyes, taking a step toward Rae, tangled underneath the body of her best friend.

“No!” Connor revealed himself as the old woman threatened his sister. He jumped to his feet.

“Oh! Ho, ho,” The old woman cackled and turned slowly toward Connor’s protesting voice. “The meek becomes the stout-hearted, aye?” She tilted her craggy head backward to let out a delighted squawk.

“You’ve done enough. Leave her alone.” Connor stated matter-of-factly. He puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders.

“Quite, quite. But sadly, son, I have much left to do,” She smiled, baring blackened teeth. “See, it does not occur every day that I grace others with my presence. In fact, it is not every century. But you…” She pointed one straggly finger toward his worried face. “And in particular, your sister,” She tilted her head toward Rae, “Mmm, very special. Yes. Very…well, it is of no matter. Not yet, anyway. But poor… Justine, was it?” She smiled back at Rae and paused to lick her lips, “Yes, Justine. She was not so pure of heart, nor of body.”

Rae cowered behind the old wooden chest as fresh sobs began to surface.

“WHY?!” Connor demanded. “What did she ever do to you? What the…” He looked furtively throughout the room and tore at his dirty blonde hair, “What the hell is going on?!”

The old woman crossed toward him, but he held his ground. She began to circle him, her eyes rolling back into her head. She inhaled a long, labored breath and whispered as she strode determinedly around him.

“Ahhh,” She finally stopped, satisfied. “I am sorry, my boy. Thou art next.”

Connor stared in disbelief and dropped to his knees, covering his face. It was more than Rae could bear to watch. She shifted Justine’s weight onto the wooden chest and rose to her numb feet. The old woman’s back was turned. Rae felt as if she were walking on a bed of sharp thumbtacks as she strode unwaveringly across the bare floor.

She grimaced in distaste. The old woman, as if sensing this, turned slowly toward her.

“Yes? Something to say, my dear?” She licked her lips. Rae could smell her rank breathe from the distance.

She swallowed hard. “Yeah. Yes, I do.” She raised her tear-soaked face. “I don’t know who the hell you are….Or how we got here….Or why you F*****G,” She closed her eyes, shaking, “killed my best friend!”

The old woman smiled, baring blackened teeth. She was enjoying this.

“But you will never, EVER hurt my F*****G little brother!”

“Is that so? Well, it seems we have a dilemma. You see, I will be hurting your precious baby brother. There is no manner of stopping it. Not within your means.”

“What the hell are you talking about, witch?” Rae scowled, fueled by anger and adrenaline.

“Oh! Ho! I haven’t been called by that name in some time, now. Oh, but you children have been entertaining, haven’t you?” She chuckled to herself. Rae likened the sound to nails on a chalkboard. “Mmm, very well Raven, have it your way.”

Rae cringed at the use of her full name. She knew everything. But how?

“You will be given a series of tasks. Yes, the both of you. Like it or not, you are now a part of this little…game. I had plans for you to begin with, but considering your lack of cooperation, you have forced me to rethink my original agenda.”

“Tasks? Are you…? You want us to help you?”

“Help me? No, child. I want you to help you! You see, you cannot neglect these responsibilities, not if you wish to remain as you are…that being alive.” She smiled, amused. She enjoyed toying with them.

Rae fumed with anger. “And what happens if we do this? What happens if we beat your games?” The hate coursed through her veins. She shook with the intensity of her loathing.

“Beat me? Child, ho, ho! Such is not going to happen. No one has ever succeeded…and I have been in practice for longer than your pitiable little mind is capable of comprehending.”

Rae took a deep breath and matched the old woman’s steady glare and confident smile. She rose up onto her bare toes. “I’m sorry, let me rephrase that.” She mocked concentration. “What happens WHEN I succeed? What happens when I beat you, you revolting, dried up, broken-down witch?

The old woman was taken aback. She smoothed the front of her moth-eaten robes. “I would prefer pythoness, necromancer, thaumaturgist, even. Though, that one is a bit ill fitting, I have to admit. The point being, my dear girl: You simply cannot do what you profess so brazenly.” She focused her stare to a laser’s edge. “It cannot be done.” She smiled, her yellow teeth bared. “Regardless, you will do as I say.”

Rae crossed her arms and glanced to where Connor slumped against the wall, resigned. She had never felt more protective of him.

The old woman cleared her ancient throat. “Time for rest, my unfortunate little adversaries. You will be in need of it.” She got down low, an inch from Rae’s trembling face. “Three days. ” She clapped her hands.

And with that, Rae felt a swirling jolt and came crashing down onto her bunk back in cabin 3. She heard a similar crash behind her and spun around to see Connor balled up on top of his own bed.

“Rae, I’m really scared,” He choked.

“I know.” She avoided his eyes. What had happened? And what had she gotten them into? Exactly what had she promised? The anger left her body, replaced by a haunted emptiness. She didn’t know if she could do this.

“Don’t worry, Connor,” She stated, assuredly. “I can do this.”

 

                       Chapter 8

 

            Connor was awoken by a shrill, vibrating ring. He instinctively grabbed at his pants pocket and blindly pressed a tiny plastic button. A whiny New York accent greeted him warmly.

            “Conna?? You betta be on your way down hea as we speak. This place is crawlin’ with yuppies and you should be elbow-deep in cookin’ grease by now.”

            He sat up straight, scraping his head on the rough popcorn ceiling. “Ow. Cindy? What time is it? Be right there.”

            “You betta be! And grab your sista while you’re at it. These drag queens look thirsty.”

            Drag queens, thought Connor, Cindy could be so insensitive.

            “Yup. I’m on it.” Connor stated and slapped his phone shut. He rubbed his eyes and wondered at the underlying haze of dread that seemed to hang over the room.

            He glanced over at Rae and down at Justine. Or where Justine should have been. Then all at once it hit him. Everything.

No, he shook his head as memories surfaced and tears filled his eyes.

            He slithered down from his bunk and continued to shake his head. What was he supposed to do now? He felt frozen. Shouldn’t he do something? Shouldn’t somebody do something? Weren’t there things that needed to be done? To be reported?

            He felt the anxiety creep up through his insides. His head grew fuzzy and felt like it was floating, disconnected. What could he say? “Hello, officer, yes I’d like to report a murder. What happened? Well, you see: We found a secret passageway hidden inside our cabin which led to a second story that doesn’t exist and a bitter, murderous old witch who paralyzed my sister’s friend before ultimately sucking the life from her before our very eyes. Then she threatened to kill me, too. That’s all. Oh, and she claimed to be centuries old and talked like she was from the period of Excalibur-wielding, mask-wearing, Goddess-worshipping...real Morgan Le Fay type s**t.”

            Got all that?

            Connor paced the room, but stopped when he got to the fridge. He cracked open a fresh IPA and chugged it in one long, continuous gulp. He didn’t even taste it. Then he went outside and stood barefoot in the overgrown reeds. He took a deep breath and screamed as loud as he could. Gasping, he collapsed onto a patch of wet sand.

            Five minutes and a second beer later, he woke his sister. She had been crying all night. He could tell by the ring of red around her eyes. She had a sunken, hollow look. The two talked, cried, and argued for the next ten minutes. Then they cried some more.

            Ultimately, they decided to go to work. This had less to do with the angry phone call from Cindy and more to do with the need for a distraction while they figured out how to proceed.

            The place was swamped all morning. Connor was all but ready to punch the lights out of the next person that asked him what was wrong. He didn’t feel like talking about it. Couldn’t talk about it. Physically could not. The entire process of not understanding, of denial, of blocking everything out was utterly exhausting.

            Which was why, at the usual three-o-clock lull, he decided to hide out on top of a few burlap sacks of potatoes and behind a shipment of Sam Adams. Surely no one would miss him for the next five to seven minutes.

            Despite his worries, Connor fell instantly to sleep. He faded quickly into an inky blackness that enveloped him warmly and put him at ease. That, of course, was when he fell down the proverbial rabbit hole.

            He fell, literally, for what seemed like an eternity. His body swirled around and around in an endless spiral of uncertainty and terror. He heard an animal screeching from far down below. The tortured voice grew louder as he fell with increasing speed and force.

            A small cylindrical object floated up from underneath. No, not floating, just falling more slowly than he was. He reached out for it and grabbed it with his thumb and forefinger. It was brittle and dry. Its grayish appearance was familiar to him, though he couldn’t comprehend much of anything at the moment. A gasp of recognition and he let go, allowing it to float beside him as he continued to fall.

            A bone. A small, decaying bone. Probably that of an animal.

            He wiped his hand on his pants and looked down to see a plethora of bones far down below, rising up toward his rushing body. He covered his mouth as the stench of them took over the space. The bones were joined by feathers. The feathers joined by small pieces of leather and twine. Finally, balls of collected hair came wafting toward him as he covered his face to hide from the smell and the unease.

            But he couldn’t block what invaded his senses. His eyes burned, his mouth tasted dry and foreign, his nose became invaded with a stench he recognized. He had heard that the sense of smell was the one most closely tied to memory. Something to do with the position in the brain as both resided in the temporal lobe. What a ridiculous thing to remember at a time like this.

            It was old Mr. Cochran, the owner of the Outermost. He knew it was disgusting…but he could smell him. He uncovered his nose just in time for a dry clump of hair to suck itself to his nostrils. He spat in earnest. The hairs smelled like old Mr. Cochran. But why?

            That was when the screeching animal grew louder. Goosebumps broke out all over his trembling body. That, too, he recognized now. The voice didn’t belong to an animal at all…but her. The witch.

            “Put them together, m’dear lad. You wanted to be saved, did you not? Put them together and plant them where they belong. Do this, and you live to breathe another morn.”

            A vivid scene filled every corner of Connor’s mind. He saw tall reeds and small scurrying animals. He saw a white lattice, worn from summers by the sea. He recognized the chipped white paint on the dented siding. It was the main house at the Outermost. As if it somehow sensed his recognition, the picture shifted and zoomed to a particular window at the back of the building. There was a small hole in the lattice around the bottom of the house. It had probably been chewed through by a raccoon or a rabbit.

            Then he saw an arm, his arm, he was sure of it, reaching forth. The hand was holding a small leather pouch, teaming with what looked like small bones and feathers. The other hand stuffed a wad of gray-brown hairs into the opening and began to twist a bit of twine around the encasing. The hands reached into the hole and placed the pouch inside, hidden. The picture began to zoom out, the hands retreated. He retreated.

            He was rising up now, his body changing direction and gaining speed. He left it all behind and rose up out of the inky darkness.

            All at once, he opened his eyes and came crashing down on top of the rough burlap sack of potatoes. His eyes shot around the kitchen, hyper-vigilant. Surely it had all been a dream.

            But then why was he brushing gray-brown hairs off of his uniform?

 

                       Chapter 9

 

            Connor sat in silence, studying his sister’s weary face. She looked tired, void of emotion, though he knew that there were a thousand sets of feelings fighting for play on that placid exterior.

            “You’re certain that there were actual hairs around when you woke up? Hairs that weren’t yours?” She spoke after a long, brooding silence.

            Connor huffed, “I mean, I know the last 24 hours have been…rough, but the last time I checked, I hadn’t gone gray just yet.” He plucked a three-inch-long hair from his lap and laid it on his sister’s knee.

            He took her sudden intake of breathe as a sign of submission. She began slowly to nod her head.

            “Look,” Connor began, “I know you’re not going to like this, but maybe I should just go with it. Yes, it’s what she wants, but maybe we should just play the game…See where it leads us.”

            Rae continued to nod her head, staring at the sack of potatoes behind Connor’s head.

            “Maybe it’s the key to getting out of it all…the whole situation. What if you were right before, and we could be the ones to beat the system?”

            Rae narrowed her eyes but kept nodding into space.

            “What if she can bring Justine back?” He raised his voice as it cracked.

            Rae’s eyes snapped to focus on his. “Don’t. Don’t say her name. I can’t…We can’t think like that. She’s gone. I held her when she…” But her throat swelled and she could no longer finish the sentence.

            “No. But you were the one who promised her. You were the one who stood up and said that we would beat her. And it’s my neck on the line now, Rae. Mine.” He began to cry. “And there’s a reason she showed me this. I don’t even care what she’s going to do. I don’t. But I think we should try.”

            Rae brushed the hair and dust from her black uniform pants and stood up, suddenly full of purpose. Her tears were dry by the time she addressed her brother again.

            “I think it’s time to get back to the hostel.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. They walked out together amidst a crowd of Hawaiian-shirted customers.

            “Hey! Where ya’s think you’re goin’?” Demanded Cindy from behind her perch at the front counter.

            “Taking the rest of the day off!” Rae shouted without looking.

            “Yo, Rae! Wait, I wanted to talk to you!” a deeper voice called from the bar. She turned to face Matt. She had no time or energy to give to him.

            He jogged toward her. “Is everything alright? You’ve had tears in your eyes all day.”

            “I can’t talk right now, Matt. We have to go.” She turned away. He grabbed her by the elbow and began to stroke her arm with his rough hand. “I’ll come over later. I’ve got a bottle of Chateau Au Berton.” He smiled crookedly and tilted his head in genuine sympathy.

            She felt the tears fighting for release again. She had to focus. “Ok. That would be nice. See you then.” She wrenched her arm from his grip and stalked through the front door with Connor in tow. Without looking back, they descended onto the busy mid-afternoon street and strode briskly toward the hostel.

                                    ******************************

            “I can feel it. Ehh, I think there’s still some skin on it!” Connor whined through gritted teeth. He extended his left arm as far from his upturned face as was humanly possible.

            “Just stick it in the hole and be done with it.” Rae barked from behind him.

            He paused to shoot her a humored glance. He didn’t know if she’d meant to crack a joke, but he appreciated it just the same.

            “You’re an infant.” But she smiled, despite the situation. “Get on with it.”

            Connor placed the rough leather pouch inside the splintered lattice under the main house. He’d found it next to their porch steps back at the cabin, along with a few inches of twine and a dead Orange-Crowned Warbler.

            This last bit was what had bothered him the most as he knew what he had to do.

            He had thought that Rae would hide inside, unable to watch as he regrettably dismembered the once beautiful bird’s tiny body, but she had stayed. He extracted a few of the small elfin bones, mortified by the act. When he was done, he placed them inside the pouch and headed to the main office, unsure of how to proceed.

            But luck, or supernatural interference was on his side. Mrs. Cochran had apparently gotten fed up with her old husband’s shaggy appearance and taken matters into her own hands. There was a large trash bag filled with scraps and clothes next to the front porch, along with an extensive porn collection and, yes, a smaller trash bag filled with hair…and toe nails.

            He thought Rae was going to vomit when she finally opened the tiny bag.

            Connor extracted a clump of hair and three toenails, for good measure, and placed them inside the worn leather pouch. He tied the motley mix of ingredients together and the two headed toward the back of the house.

            It was there that Connor carried out the contents of his dream, unsure of what to expect, but knowing that his goal remained the same.

 

                       Chapter 10

            Rae rested her aching head on the pillow, Justine’s pillow, and closed her eyes. They itched. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the pollen or because of the crying, but she supposed it didn’t matter. She could hear her brother in the bathroom, scrubbing furiously at his hands under the steaming water.

            She never wanted to talk about what they’d done that afternoon.

            She hadn’t even felt herself drifting off to sleep, but soon she was hurtling through space at gut-wrenching speeds. Her breath caught in her throat, hair blowing in the acrid breeze. She smelled rotten vegetation and decaying flesh and tried in vain to cover her nose, only to find that her hands were sucked to her sides by the force of her velocity.

            A low resounding laughter filled the dark space. She focused on it. The sound was the only constant in her surroundings. She felt herself hurtling toward it.

            And then her body halted with a sudden nauseating jolt. Her head whipped to all corners of the scene before her.

            She was in a brightly lit field of grass and tall weeds. She could smell the dew and the hot sun. Next came the familiar smell of rotten plants and spoiled meat.

            It was then that she spotted a rabbit in her peripheral vision. It was small and russet brown with a soft white tail. It hopped through the grass without hesitation. It obviously hadn’t seen her. She wondered if her body was invisible.

            Her eyes caught another figure, entering from the right of the picture as if stalking the animal from behind. She held her breath out of confusion and unexpected recognition. It was her brother, crouched low behind a tree stump, staring intently at the guileless animal.

            “Connor! What are you doing?” She called.

            He didn’t respond. Showed no sign of having heard her voice.

            “Connor!”

            Nothing.

            With a swift flick of his wrist, all was revealed. Without warning, he pounced on the rabbit and drove a concealed silver steak knife into its belly. His eyes glowed with a rage and determination she had never seen before, not from her brother.

            She screamed as the picture zoomed wider and wider. She was hurtling backward through a familiar tunnel, the smells of wasted organic material invading her nose once more. Her tears were swept from her face by sheer force.

            “He’ll do it, Raven.” She cringed at the rough, papery voice. She wanted to cover her face, her ears, but couldn’t.

            “He will do it, for you will bid him so.”

            Rae shook her head and sobbed into the rushing wind.

            “Your dissent is inadmissible. The Gladwell children have been left with little choice, as you have been informed. Comply. Your options are paltry, I’m afraid.”

            Rae could hear the smile behind those words. Her stomach churned with hatred and distaste. She held her breath and shouted into the wind.

            “I’ll kill you.”

            And then she was back. Lying on Justine’s bunk with her head in her hands and a pool of tears around her. She leaped to her feet and pawed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. She ran to the bathroom as fast as her feet could carry her.

            Connor was still standing at the sink, scouring his hands as if to scrape the day’s activities from his skin.

            “Get out!” Rae yelled to his back.

            “What? What are you doing?” He turned his tear-stained face.

            “Unless you want to see me throw up!” She warned.

            “Oh hell no.” He ran from the tiny room with a flick of the spigot.

            That was when Rae lost it. Her control, her handle of a flood of emotions, and the contents of her stomach. It all poured forth and mixed in a reservoir of sorrow and complication that juxtaposed perfectly with the simplicity of the cracked porcelain.

            “I don’t think we can do this,” She muttered.

                                        *************************************

            Rae cleaned up and exited the bathroom.

            Connor was waiting for her. “Alright. Spill.”

            She gave him a sour look.

            “You know what I mean.”

            Rae told him what she had seen. This time, they skipped the skepticism and got right to the interpretation.

            “I won’t do it,” Connor shook his head, definitively.

            “I know, I know. But I’ve seen you do it. What does that mean?”

            “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I have no intention of sacrificing an innocent bunny.”

            “Yes, I get that. But I’ve seen you do it. Doesn’t that account for something?” She took a deep breath. “Look at it this way: In your dream, you saw yourself placing the pouch under the main house, obviously before you had done it…”

            “Right, but I wouldn’t necessarily call that the “future” because I wouldn’t have done any of it if I hadn’t seen myself doing it beforehand.”

            “Exactly my point! You saw yourself doing it, so then you had to follow through with it.”

            “No. I acted of my own free will. I chose to act out the dream because I saw no immediate harm in doing so and ultimately wanted to save us. Of course, if I had known that I would have to dismember an actual dead bird.” He shuddered at the memory of it.

            “But how do you know it was free will? What if we’re being controlled as we speak? What if we have no choice?”

            “I don’t believe that. And, bottom line, Rae, I’m not doing it. I don’t care what happens. I can’t live like this.”

            She felt anger surge through her body. “And you won’t ‘live like this’! You’ll be dead! What if we can’t stop it?! What if…. D****t! We have to find out who hell we’re dealing with!” She tore at her hair.

            “Does it matter? What’s done is done. We’re as good as dead.” He stared blankly and lowered himself onto the bunk. “I wonder how she’ll do it.”

            “Stop it, Connor. We’re not giving up.” She, too, collapsed on one of the bunks, Justine’s bunk. She hugged the pillow tightly to her face and thought about the last 24 hours. They had no choice but to do this.

                       Chapter 11

            Connor sat on their porch, looking out over the sandy parking lot, flicking his penknife open and closed. The sun was still high in the sky and his brow was damp. His thumb was raw from the consistent flicking. He heard Rae come to the screen door beside him.

            “What are you thinking? Are you…are you thinking about doing it?” She seemed hopeful, despite the underlying horror. They both belonged to PETA’s Action Team.

            Connor shook his head and flicked his knife open. He moved it into Rae’s line of sight.

            “So you are thinking of doing it?” She swallowed hard.

            “No. Do you notice anything at all…striking?” He tilted the blade to catch the sunlight.

            “Your penknife? I’ve never seen you use it before. Not since dad got it for you. I don’t know.” She sat with her head in her hands. All at once, she perked up. “Yes. It’s not the knife from my dream. In my dream, you were holding a steak knife! In my dream, that’s what you used!” She inhaled sharply.

            “Exactly. That’s what you said. So…”

            “So,” She cut him off, “It’s not predestined. It wasn’t the future I saw. Because if you were to do it, you’d use that penknife.”

            “Mmmhmm.” He nodded, still gazing off across the sand and tall grass. Crickets chirped from no place in particular. He heard Rae swat at what was probably a mosquito. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped to turn toward the footsteps striding across the gravel.

            “Well, Gladwells? How goes the day off?” Matt appeared, brandishing a new pair of cowboy boots.

            “Hey, Matt. You know, it’s going.” Connor forced a tight smile, not wanting to seem “off” in any way. Rae waved tiredly.

            “It’s going, it’s going, huh? Well how ‘bouts a little company? I have a case of Sam Adams I’ve been sittin’ on for a week.”

            Connor snorted. “Hmm…sounds tasty.”

            “You know what I mean. Hey, where’s your friend?” Matt lifted his foot onto the edge of the flowerpot and thrust his pelvis into the air.

            Rae grimaced amidst his laughing. “She, uh…she actually had to leave. Went home. Her mom called last night and said she had to…go there.” She twisted her face in frustration. He hadn’t been looking anyway.

            “Too bad, too bad.” He shook his head. “She was pretty good company. Hmm, Good company. But I’m sure we’ll meet again.” He nodded deviously. “Well, if you all want to come over later on, y’know where I’ll be.” He bent to brush the dirt off of his pointed toe.

            Connor glanced at his sister and rolled his eyes. Rae filled the awkward silence, “Sure, later on tonight.”

            Matt’s head perked up. His smile warmed her a bit.

“See y’then.”

            When Matt was safely behind his cabin door, the two continued their discussion. What did it mean if they couldn’t complete the second task? What were their options? And exactly who were they dealing with?

            “I’m going to the library.” Connor blurted into the silence that had been blanketing the porch for the past twenty minutes. “We have to find out what we’re dealing with. And since this god-forsaken campground doesn’t have wireless, I’ll have to pour over the Dell Dinosaurs they’ve got down at the P-town biblioteca.

            “Alright. Just be careful…or whatever.” She laid a hand on his arm. The closest they’d ever come to an embrace. She expected him to cringe.

            “Yeah. I will. Thanks.” He offered a half-smile and got to his feet, pocketing his penknife.

            Connor shuffled down the street toward the looming brick building. He wondered how many people would actually be in the library, and for that matter, how long it would be open. It was a shore town, after all. He distinctly remembered going to the post office last summer to mail his renewal of G4 magazine, only to find that it had closed at 1pm that sunny afternoon due to “excellent waves.”

            He tried the heavy knob and was mildly surprised to find it unlocked. A deeply tanned raisin of a woman nodded at him suspiciously. He figured he was the first teenage boy to walk into the P-town library all day, all week even. He headed toward a short row of off-white computers and settled into an old wooden chair.

                       Chapter 12

Rae decided to make herself somewhat useful while Connor was off trying to discover the identity of their…problem. She shuffled around the interior of the cabin, pacing back and forth, mulling over the details. She was no killer. She knew that. But all evidence and all rational thought pointed toward the necessity for Connor to complete the second task. Sure, she was all for beating the system. But without more information, without some sort of help, what was left to do except for to play the game?

She knew what she had to do. She had to convince Connor. Suddenly sure of herself, she nodded dramatically to no one in particular and picked up a towel that was lying at her feet. She began to pick up any laundry she could find and toss each article of clothing into the wooden basket in the corner. Then she tackled the beds. A tear escaped her eye as she considered what life would be like if she had to come home without her brother. Or if neither of them made it out at all. She shuddered. Even the best-case scenario included explaining to Justine’s parents why she had disappeared and would never be coming home.

Tears poured forth from her burning eyes as Rae fluffed the pillows and replaced Connor’s reading glasses and worn copy of 1984. She would never see her best friend again. For all the times she complained about her selfishness, her one-track mind, her inappropriate, non-existent sexual boundaries…for the life of her, Rae couldn’t remember the details of any of it.

How could she go back? How could she return to Boston, bearing the news that the school’s most popular girl, the girl that every guy wanted and every girl secretly wanted to be was gone? Murdered. Murdered at the hand of some sociopathic figment of their imaginations that had no place in this world, but could rob from it like it meant nothing at all.

Rae threw the pillow with all the force of a wronged woman. She didn’t feel like a teenager anymore. She rose to her feet and replaced the pillow. She grabbed the broom that was resting against the window and attacked the floor, sweeping the dust toward the open screen door. She continued onto the front porch, sweeping dust left and right as she went, not seeing any of it. She saw only the face of the witch that was waiting for her. The b***h that had underestimated her.

She continued that way for another twenty minutes. The sun was lowering slowly to kiss the line of trees off in the distance. Cicadas let off a shrill drone from somewhere close by. Connor had once said that they only came out after dark. She wondered why this group was so confused.

But her fervent concentration was broken by the sound of a sharp ring coming from behind her. She wondered if it was really there or if this was the onset of her psychotic break. Then Matt’s voice severed the palpable silence.

“Care for a cup of lobster bisque, my famished-looking friend? Along with the juiciest cheeseburger in New England, if I do say so myself? Come on, what d’ya say?” He bowed low and jingled the tiny bell in his hand. Rae could see a piece of lettuce in his sandy blonde hair. She smiled, her heart warming once again.

“Sounds perfect, Matt.”

“Great. In that case, I’ll go pour the wine.” He straightened his tight-fitting rugby shirt and raised a comical eyebrow.

“I’ll be right over. I just have to change and leave Connor a note.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll be right next-door. And let me just go on the record as saying that you, my dear, are looking more delicious every day. I bet you taste better than the cheeseburger.” He took an audible bite of the air.

Rae laughed, shaking her head.

            “Alright. Let’s go. I’m starving.”

            Matt grabbed her arm and escorted her across the dirt path. “So tell me again about the sexual pressures of going to an all-girls’ Catholic school.”

            “It was co-ed.”

            “Not in my mind, it wasn’t. What was it like? Did you practice on each other?”

            “You’re perverted.”

            “Oh, have we just met?”

            Rae laughed. She was glad she had something to take her mind off of things. She had scared herself a bit back there. But as soon as Connor returned, it would be back to business. There was a solution to this problem. And they were going to find it.

 

                       Chapter 13

            Connor waited with his hand below the dusty, quivering computer printer despite the behest of the librarian gesturing directly behind him. In P-town, apparently 5:00 meant 4:37…and extremely angry.

            “Got it,” Connor whispered as the last page of his printout fell into his outstretched hand. “I got it! I’m done. I’m leaving.” He shook the stack above his head and mumbled. “Ya miserable, half-assed, old bag.”

            He wondered if she knew that he was mocking her. He didn’t care. She had had it out for him since before he’d gotten there.

            Connor’s feet raced nimbly down the sidewalk in the direction of the hostel. He poured over the pages as he walked, paying special attention to the words in bold. He’d found a few excellent sites. It seemed as though historical documents of a paranormal nature wouldn’t die with the written word, after all. Religious zealots the world over had immortalized them electronically. He’d ponder the irony of such an idea later on.

pythoness |ˈpīθənəs; ˈpiθ-|noun archaic: a female soothsayer or conjuror of spirits.

When a magician casts a black magic spell, the power is unbreakable and results are destined, whereas with white magic the power is not certain, many things can break it up, such as fear, doubt, worry and lack of faith - black magic is the reverse of white magic, it annihilates anything that gets in its way.

Black magic spells once executed cannot be stopped, therefore they should only be used by those who know what they want, because they will get it. There is no turning back.

 

            He shook his head as his eyes scanned the page. He had told Rae that the old woman’s threats hadn’t been promises; that it wasn’t all predestined. He couldn’t explain it. He had just had a feeling. But what if he had been wrong?

Her earlier argument was still plaguing him. It was true that if he did decide to stomach the second task, he would do so with his penknife. But according to this source (which, truth be told, was the only one he had to go on at this point), black magic wasn’t up for interpretation. It was uncompromising, absolute.

            So then what if it wasn’t black magic that was operating here? What if it was something else? Something that could be altered; could be stopped?

            He shuffled once more through the printouts. This one came from a “Black Magic” website authored by a British man who actively practiced.

 

Black magic is the most potent power of all occult forces. If you have a problem you are struggling to solve, I have the power to cast a black magic spell that will work, unlike white magic that at the most only slightly influences a situation in your favour. White magic usually fails because the problem it is trying to solve is often more powerful than the white spell, whereas black magic will not take no for an answer, it overpowers all obstacles. It dominates a situation and takes complete control.

 

Connor stopped walking as a realization pounded him. His throat tightened as he revisited a crucial line: “If you have a problem you are struggling to solve, I can cast a black magic spell…” So witches could be hired?

He let his eyes travel downward to the last line:

 I look forward to assisting you shortly.

He tore through the pages. The next one was titled “The Witch’s Hex Bag.” He had chosen to print it because it was referenced by almost every site and publication he had researched. He read on, increasingly anxious now.

 

A hex bag is a charm that is composed from a mixture of herbs, talismans, and other supernatural ingredients. A hex bag must also contain a personal belonging of the intended victim and is bound with leather. Used to bring about a specific effect, usually but not always malicious.

 

Connor felt his heart trip and fall into his stomach. He leaned against a low white-picket fence and thought back to the dream he’d had while dozing on a sack of potatoes in the kitchen, to the strange instructions and the cackling of the voice in his head. Worse, to the task they’d already carried out. The little brown bag, the bones, and the hair. He shuddered.

Mr. Cochran’s hair. That’s why they had been told to put it into the bag. That old hag had manipulated them into a scheme against Mr. Cochran. No, not “old hag,” He shook his head as hot tears pierced the corners of his tired blue eyes. She now had a label that was henceforth undeniable.

Witch.

He read on, hands shaking with anxiety and hate.

 

Breaking a Hex Bag Spell

The only methods of ending the effects of a hex bag are to locate and burn it or to have the witch casting the spell break it. When a hex bag is burned, the flames become a bright blue.

 

            He nodded, brushing a tiny droplet off of the crinkled papers in his fist. He clutched them to his chest and set his mouth in a hard, determined line. He now knew what he had to do. He set off at a run toward the nearest convenience store. He needed a lighter.

                                    *********************************************

            Connor must have looked like hell. The man behind the counter at the convenience store had given him the hairy eyeball. You know, that special look adults save for kids they grossly mistrust. He didn’t care, just nodded and slapped a five-dollar bill onto the counter. He didn’t know how much a lighter cost.

            When he reached the Outermost parking lot, he slowed to a walk. He waved the dust that had been kicked into the air and strode quickly toward his cabin. The sun was setting off in the distance and the place had an eerie amber glow to it. There were no lights on inside. He wondered if his sister was already over at Matt’s.

            “Hey, uh, excuse me.”

            Connor whipped around, wild-eyed. A tall, overly tanned guy was standing there, obviously lost. His spiked hair screamed MTV reality show. He clenched a thick brown paper bag between his meaty fingers.

            “Hey, can I…help you?” Connor raised his eyebrows. He was sort of on a schedule here.

            “Yeah, bro,” he began.

Connor hated him already.

“I was lookin’ for a girl named Justine. Cabin three, right? You know her?”

            All at once, Connor forgot his prejudice, forgot about judging this guy for his flame tattoo, forgot about rushing to the hole underneath the main house where they’d hid the “hex bag.”

            He swallowed hard. “No, man. I…she’s…not in. Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

            The guy shot him a dubious look. “She’s out?”

            “Yeah. She’s…out.”

            “Alright, whatever. Well, listen…I tried to call her cell phone but it’s off, so just tell her TJ stopped by.” He smiled feebly and turned on his heel. “Oh wait…umm… I’ll just leave this here.” He nodded toward the bag he was holding. “I thought the two of us would hang out here for dinner, but maybe tomorrow or something.”

            “Right.” Connor reached for the brown bag. “I’ll make sure she…I’ll just put this inside.”

            “Alright thanks bro.” TJ said, eyeing him with a crooked smile. He lingered a moment, then once more turned smoothly on his heel and stalked off in the direction he’d come.

            Connor felt bad for the guy, but couldn’t help feeling that something was a bit…off. He shook his head all the way back to the cabin porch, sinking even further into despair. He couldn’t take much more.

            He noticed that Rae had straightened up. He decided to sit for a second. It was getting harder and harder to fight the tears. He placed the brown bag on his lap and began to explore its insides a bit. There were two Styrofoam take-out containers. Steaks, from the smell of them. There was also a cheap-looking bottle of red wine.

            Connor pawed through the bag absent-mindedly until he uncovered something that made him stop dead in his tracks.

            Two silver forks…and a carefully sharpened steak knife.

            His heart pounded. Connor tossed the bag aside and stood up as quickly as he could manage. He crammed his fist into his pockets and came up with nothing. They were empty. His heart pounded like a freight train through a Led Zeppelin concert.

His penknife wasn’t there. He must have dropped it at some point that afternoon. Probably while he had been scrambling to get out of the computer room at the insistence of that decrepit librarian.

            It looked like Rae had been right. There was some sort of well-oiled machine at work here. Maybe they didn’t have as much control as they’d thought…Or any at all.

            Quickly, he whipped out his cell phone and dialed the seven digits from memory. It went straight to voicemail.

            “Rae! It’s me. I did my research and you’re not going to believe what I found. The witch isn’t acting alone. I think someone summoned her. Anyway, I had a very coincidental run-in with Justine’s friend TJ. I’ll explain more later. I’m going to follow him. Call me when you get this.”

            Connor slammed his phone shut and crammed it back into his dusty jeans pocket. He leapt off the porch and stealthily took off in the direction of that greasy-haired wannabe.

                         Chapter 14

            “Mademoiselle…” Matt poured a ladle of lobster bisque into Rae’s oversized mug.

            “Classy.” She stated.

            “But of course!” He laughed.

            She had to chuckle at his efforts.

            “I’m glad we have the opportunity to talk. To be alone.

            “Right.” Rae answered, cautiously. She was always careful not to lead him on.

            “So you agree?” Matt asked.

            “I…”

            “You know, you’ve been trying to escape me for forever, Rae, but it’s not going to work for much longer.”

            Matt leaned forward to stroke Rae’s forearm with the backs of his fingers. She flinched and whipped her arm backward.

            “Don’t.”

            “What? You know I’m harmless.”

            “I do, Matt. But don’t push your luck.”

            “Luck? Honey, it’s not about luck,” He paused to wink. “It’s about so much more than luck.”

                       Chapter 15

            Connor rounded the corner toward the populated street, careful to put enough distance between himself and TJ. The guy was walking briskly down the block, weaving in and out of the throngs of people heading to various restaurants and pubs. There was an urgency to his step. An urgency that caused suspicion in Connor.

            TJ stopped at the next corner and checked his cell phone. He seemed to scroll through a message, ran a hand through his hair, and then stood in the shadow growing against the side of a building.

            Connor took his window of opportunity.

            “Hey!” He called.

            TJ’s head whipped toward him at once and he glanced nervously to either side.

            “You. What do you want?” He asked.

            Connor strode the last few yards toward him. “What’s your game? What did you really want with Justine? What are you trying to do with us? Who are you?”

            “What are you smoking, man? I met Justine like two weeks ago. I like her. I was looking for her tonight?”

            “Oh really? You like her? You like her?” He demanded.

            “Yeah. But I haven’t heard from her, so…”

            “And what the hell are you trying to pull bringing that s**t over tonight?” Connor began to yell, picturing the contents of the bag.

            “I wanted to see her and when I talked to her friend Matt, he told me it would be real cool to bring some steaks over and that you guys didn’t have like silver ware and all so I should bring that, too.”

            Connor paused. “Matt suggested that?”

            “Yeah. You know him. He told me he was friends with you.”

            “Yeah. How do you know him?”

            “He comes into the liquor store like every freakin’ day, man. He was the one that said I should hook up with Justine.”

            “That doesn’t make any sense.” Connor shook his head, thinking of how Matt himself had spent the night with Justine earlier that week.

            “Yeah. He said I should take her off his hands, since he’s like totally bent on your sister.”

            “What?”

            “Oh yeah. He said if only Justine was out of the way, he could make his move.”

            Connor shook his head again. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

            He began to retreat down the street, back in the direction of the hostel, but turned around to TJ once more. “Lemme ask you one more question.”

            “Yeah, bro.”

            “What did he say to bring tonight?”

            “Uh, he said Justine loves steak and that I could bring whatever else, but to make sure to bring silver ware.”

            “Specifically?”

            “He said bring a steak knife. That was the only thing he said specifically.”

            “He said to bring a steak knife?”

            TJ nodded. “Definitely.”

            Connor turned back toward the top of the street and began to sprint back to the Outermost.

            Four minutes later, Connor could start to make out the sound of sirens blaring across the streets. He picked up the pace and felt his heart leap into his throat as a police car and two ambulances tore through the dirt parking lot and stopped in front of cabins 1 and 2. Connor raced over to the policeman.

            “What is it? Cabin 3?”

            The policeman surveyed the panting, sweating teenage boy and shook his head. “No, main house. An old man has collapsed. Doesn’t sound good, son. You’d better get inside. Let us handle it.”

            Connor attempted to hide his look of horror. An image of the hex bag residing in the hole underneath the house flooded his mind. Mentally, he cursed himself. He should have burned it before he took off after TJ. The color drained from his face.

            “You okay son? Did you know him?”

            “Mr. Cochran? No, not that well. Do they know what happened?”

            “Not yet. It’ll be natural causes, most likely, though his wife says he’s healthier’n a horse.”

            “Right.” Said Connor as he began to back away from the scene developing in front of the main house.

            He made it back to his cabin.

            “Rae?” He called. The sun was almost down now. His sister was nowhere in sight. He hoped she hadn’t gone off and done anything stupid. “Rae?” He called once more.

            He began to pace the room but stopped when his foot kicked something under the bed. He leaned down to retrieve it and fished around with his open hand.

            It was growing darker in the room, but his eyes could just make out two objects lying under the bunk. One was his old copy of 1984. He or Rae must have dropped it on the floor earlier. The other was a small object just out of his reach. He shoved his foot under the bed and kicked it out into the open. What he saw caused him to stop dead in his tracks.

                                  

Chapter 16

 

Rae stood at the front window of Matt’s cabin, watching the lights of the police cars. She wasn’t sure why she was not more alarmed. She could see chaos unfolding 50 yards away, but all she could do was stand limply at the window and watch the swirling lights.

She heard Matt rifling through his bags behind her.

“Come, get away from the window,” Matt beckoned anxiously.

“I feel so funny,” Rae muttered through partially numb lips.

“Yeah, this isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

Her head turned. It was all she could do to keep the muscles in her neck tight enough to support her head. She swooned and Matt rose to support her.

“I don’t understand,” She stated. Her eyes wandered around the cluttered cabin until they stopped on the mugs of clam chowder. “Did you? Did you drug me?” She gasped.

“No! I would never!” Matt yelled as he tore at his hair. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this. I must have the wrong herbs. I…I’m sorry. I was given the wrong herbs.”

He sat Rae in one of the chairs and continued to rifle through his bag. Finally, he produced a warn leather book that looked more like an ancient binder filled with delicate tissue paper, browned at the edges. He dropped to his knees and gingerly turned the pages, his blonde hair flopping as he turned his head back and forth over the pages.

“Where did you get that?” Rae slurred.

“The main house. Mr. Cochran had it. He used to be real into this stuff. He won’t be missing it now.”

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“He’s dead. Didn’t you see the ambulance? It took off with a body bag, not a person.”

“He’s dead? We put that thing under his house…” She trailed off. Words were beginning to fail her. “Connor and I put that thing, what is it….we got his hair and put it in with the other stuff…we put the bones in there.”

“I know,” Matt answered without looking up.

“You know.”

“I know what you did. I was watching. I knew what you had to do.”

“You knew what we had to do…” She was still so confused.

“Where is that freaking page!” He yelled, tearing at his hair once more.

“How did you know? Why did you drug me?”

“I didn’t drug you, Rae!” He dropped the book and crossed to where she was sitting. He knelt down a few inches from her face. “She just gave me the wrong herbs. I never meant for you to get like this. God, none of this makes any sense to you. I’ve just never been able to say it.” He took a deep, labored breath. “I love you, Rae. I always have.” He began to chuckle. “Since the moment you stepped foot into Bayside Betsy’s that summer, I knew I had to have you. I tried to make you interested. I thought maybe there was some sort of chance...”

Rae began to shake her head.

Matt continued, “But you never got interested. You just never did. So I told myself I would finally do something about it. And I did. I was here a month ago and I found this book and a few others at the main house here at the Outermost. I was desperate. Mr. Cochran said not to play around with it but I told him I wasn’t going to. I didn’t play, Rae, I was serious. I tried a few things written here, but nothing would work for me. So I did the thing I knew made the most sense.”

“You didn’t…” She winced.

“I conjured the witch.”

                        ***************************************

Connor picked that moment to abandon his listening perch outside and to kick the door down. What he saw made him angrier than he had ever felt in his life. His friend stood above his sister as she drooped downward in her chair, her eyes pleading with him to help her. He saw the open spell book lying amongst a mess of herbs and jars.

“You’re dead,” Stated Connor.

“You’re not involved in this Connor,” fired Matt.

“You involved me when you messed with my sister.”

“I never wanted to mess with her. I wanted her on my side. I wanted her to feel the same way. You and that b***h just got in the way.”

“You killed Justine,” he gasped.

“No, that witch killed Justine. I was just the one with the idea.”

“And you told her to come after me next?”

“No, the witch went rogue, man. That part wasn’t my fault.”

“It’s all your fault. All of it!” Screamed Connor. “Justine, Mr. Cochran, me. How many people do you have to manipulate and murder just to get my sister to like you? Get it into your head: You disgust her. For the record, you disgust me too!”

Rae grabbed his hand. “Matt, please. Don’t do this. Let us go. Call off this evil right here and now. Please.”

Matt’s eyes went to the sight of her hand in his. For a second, he was taken aback.

That was all the time that Connor needed.

Connor lunged and, in an instant, the silver steak knife was in Matt’s thigh. He dropped down, cradling his leg as sharp cries escaped his mouth.

Connor grabbed Rae, thankful for her distraction, and jumped over Matt to get to the bunks. A sweep of the floor produced nothing, so he continued to tear apart the beds. Under the pillow of the bottom bunk was the object he had been looking for.

A hex bag.

It was different than the one he had found in his own room. This one was larger and contained a great deal of objects. Connor didn’t even want to know.

“Leave that alone,” yelled Matt as he continued to writhe in pain.

Rae used the rest of her strength to stand and bring her boot down on the knife, driving it deeper into Matt’s flesh. He cried out in horror.

Connor quickly emptied his pockets of their contents: A lighter and few pages of computer paper. He dropped the hex bag from his cabin onto the floor next to the one from Matt’s and turned to the last sheet of paper in his hand. He read aloud:

Malleus Maleficarum is a book soaked in blood and bound in murder, within its pages lays a dictum of precise and brutal methods for both identifying and dispatching the earthly body and soul of the Witch.

He continued.

Though its whereabouts are unknown, its central tenants have been immortalized through the generations of hunters sworn heretofore to rid the earth of its otherworldly evildoers. Chief and most noteworthy of those tenants is that which states that one destroys the witch’s earthly ties by burning outright the source from which she draws her strength, namely, the hex bag.

As Connor stated this, he lit his lighter and lowered it onto the first bag.

He watched deliciously as it ignited at once. Blue flames began to emit and a stench filled the room. He recognized that stench. He continued to read as Matt’s protests grew in volume.

Make note that witches ensure their own survival through many fail safes. First, there are typically a number of hex bags, not just one. A witch’s black magic wreaks havoc on earthly individuals, but knows the boundary set forth by the diameter of the hex bag’s reach. Secondly, one hex bag should be chief among them and should rely on the energy of a living thing henceforth tied symbiotically to that object.

Connor knelt down once again, in order to light the larger bag.

“No, no, no, wait Connor!” Protested Matt. “I swear, I’ll call her off. I swear I’ll make this all stop. I didn’t mean to. Man, you know I didn’t mean to. We’re buddies, right? Come on, Connor!”

“No, Matt. We’re not buddies. Not anymore. You made sure of that.”

“No, just please let’s talk about this. Put that lighter down. Come on Connor, put it down.”

“Methinks you doth protest too much, Matt,” Stated Connor.

Rae smirked as she stood over Matt, pressing him down with her boot. It seemed she had been feigning at least part of the effects of the drug.

Connor continued, “I think I know how you made that deal, Matt. I think your face says it all right now. You put your soul on the line as collateral, didn’t you? You tied yourself to this hex bag. It relies on you.”

“What are you going to do, Connor, huh? Huh?? You worthless piece of s**t kid. I could have killed you when I had the chance. I could have told her to go after you and I didn’t. If I could go back, though, I’d sure as hell do things differently! I swear to God, I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you both!” He yelled and attempted to stand. Rae launched herself at him, cocked her fist back, and let her knuckles sail into his nose.

Just at that moment, Connor lowered the flame to the hex bag.

“Rae, look out!” He called to her.

Rae leapt backward just as one half of Matt’s face ignited.

He was a mass of flames and burning flesh, running wildly throughout the cabin. With the hex bag whining audibly, in competition with Matt’s pained cries, Rae and Connor grabbed their ears and dove for the door. They exited the cabin just as a deafening crash, followed by a pop could be heard from inside.

The two ran for the main house. It was deserted. Mr. Cochran was gone and Mrs. Cochran had no doubt gone with the ambulance. They ran for the phone on the wall and dialed 9-1-1.

Chapter 17

Connor waited in the passenger seat and watched his sister fill their gas tank for the drive home. The car was empty. It housed only the two of them. After spending the night in the main house, Rae crying and Connor punching the wall until his hand bled, they had come together and vowed always to be there for each other. They had concocted a story. Justine left with a surfer from the beach and hadn’t told them where she was going. That was last week and they hadn’t heard from her since. They were sure she’d turn up sooner or later. Meanwhile, Matt had fallen victim to the faulty wiring in the cabins and had paid for it with his life. Maybe he had been trying to light some candles. Maybe a hot plate for the soups. They didn’t know. They had been out at the time.

            That morning, they took the car and were on the road. They hadn’t even stopped to retrieve their things for fear that, somewhere, there was a hex bag hidden.

            Connor felt incredibly anxious sitting still by himself, so he exited the car, gestured to Rae that he was heading inside the convenience store, and that he’d be right back. She nodded from behind her large-framed sunglasses.

            Connor perused the store and settled on a water and a bag of chips. He made his way to the counter and stood idly behind another customer.

            That was when he saw it.

            There, amongst the smutty magazines and real estate ads was the local morning paper. His heart skipped a beat as he took it all in. He grabbed a copy, paid for his items, and exited the store. He ran toward Rae, calling her name.

            “What is it?” She asked.

            He threw the paper down on the back of the car for her to see. There it was on the front page in bold print:

            Vacationer, 19, Survives Horrific Fire in Provincetown Hostel ‘The Outermost’

            Connor traveled back to the memory of Matt’s last words:

            “I’ll kill you. I’ll kill both of you.”

            He gulped. “Let’s get out of here.”