The Keepers

Chapter 14

Donatella placed her hands flat on the table, her fingers spread wide. "Make sure you're touching the person next to you," she instructed as most of the others followed her lead. Morrigan, however, had to continue to help Margie, who was still somewhere far away in mind, if not in body.

When the five pairs of hands formed a circle on the wooden surface, Donatella closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Sitting in the quiet darkness, Josie's heart began to race.

What was about to happen? It surely couldn't have been anything good because nothing good could come out of contacting the dead. That was what her Great Aunt was trying to do, right? Communicate with the other side? And because they were the ones who were alive, the alternative was those who weren't.

Josie shuddered. She didn't like to think about death. She'd been lucky so far; no one close to her had ever died. No one she'd known, at any rate. Both sets of her grandparents were already gone by the time she was born. There was no reason to mourn someone she didn't know. Yet the thought of being gone – forever – scared her.

She didn't have Mother's faith. That woman held fast to the idea of Heaven, of a better future after mortal life. Josie, however, wasn't convinced. The prospect of a joyous eternity was appealing, but she was the sort who needed proof. Took after Father, she did. And no amount of Sunday school could offer her anything substantial enough to convince her.

Donatella opened her eyes and leaned forward. Gently pursing her lips, she slowly blew out a stream of air and extinguished the nearest candle. The wisp of grey smoke from the still-smoldering wick rose into the air. Before it had a chance to dissipate, Donatella opened her mouth and inhaled.

Josie watched with wide eyes as the smoke twisted into a fluid shape and made its way into her Great Aunt's body. When the last remnants had disappeared, the woman drew her crimson lips together and squeezed her eyes shut.

She didn't keep them closed for long. Almost immediately, her lids flew open revealing her eyes, which had turned from a warm brown to jet-black.

Josie inadvertently leaned away, but the Countess caught her gaze. "Ssh, child. There's no need to fear. And above all else, you mustn't break the circle," Eliza Bathory admonished.

The girl nodded and squared her shoulders. Not having the nerve to look back at Donatella, instead she stared into the remaining flames until the woman spoke.

"We have guests with us who are searching for answers," Donatella's voice was a low whisper. "They seek guidance. I call on those among us who wish to lead them."

Josie furrowed her brows. Until now, she'd assumed the pale, young woman across the table from her was the focus of this session. Donatella's use of the plural in addressing the spirits – or whatever was on the other side – made it sound like Josie could also benefit from their advice.

She bit her lip. Perhaps she'd finally get the knowledge she needed to return home. Before she could dwell on this newfound hope, the rattle moved on the table.

Its unexpected, melodic ringing made everyone jump, including the previously nonresponsive Margie. Her breathing accelerated, and she blinked rapidly at the animated toy, as if her eyes were playing tricks.

When Donatella's fingers began to rapidly beat on the table next to her, Josie couldn't help, but look at her Great Aunt again. Besides her hands, the woman was now also slowly moving her head, twisting her neck first left and then right, and then back again.

Come to us.

The same words Josie had heard on several prior occasions floated through the room.

She hadn't been imagining them, after all. And they were neither the winds, nor the trees. The realization both pleased and frightened the girl. But were they again speaking to her? Or did they have the same message now for Margie?

In either case, their proximity was undeniable, and the girl shivered again. Letting out a deep sigh, she saw her breath form into a haze in front of her.

It was clear she wasn't just shivering because she was scared. It had also gotten cold. Very cold. It was as if the disembodied voices dropped the temperature with their mere presence.

Come. We're waiting for you.

The message was getting louder and stronger, but it still wasn't Donatella speaking. It was someone – or perhaps something – else.

In response, the woman continued to awkwardly twist her head, her dark hair occasionally catching the candlelight. Meanwhile, the others remained motionless. Only their darting eyes vainly searching the darkness indicated their awareness.

"The child is lost," Donatella finally spoke again, and Josie looked back at her Great Aunt.

Maybe this was about her? There was no denying she was lost, stuck indefinitely in this rural manor with complete strangers.

Come back to us.

"There is no return." The woman's voice was getting more forceful, as if to compete with the unseen spirits.

The air around the table also began to swirl, blowing the women's hair and dresses around their seated bodies. Surprisingly, the flames of the candles continued to burn unaffected.

"The girl is gone," Donatella looked at Margie, who was now staring at her lap and had started to sob. "It's all right to let go."

The young woman's tears flowed down her cheeks and she struggled for breath. Her cries gradually turned into coughs until she once again appeared to be choking.

Morrigan and Eliza grabbed her hands to keep Margie from breaking the circle as she attempted to instinctively cover her mouth. Her labored convulsions brought forth a trickle of red blood to the corners of her lips. Another large cough sent the fluid spewing from her mouth and splattering in tiny droplets over the table.

The places where the blood touched the wood momentarily sparked, as if the combination of the two materials caused a volatile reaction. Although frightened, Josie couldn't keep her wide eyes away from the unusual turn of events.

"Follow your heart." Donatella continued to urge Margie, but the woman shook her head.

"No. I can't. I don't know . . ."

"Time is short," Josie's Great Aunt angrily interrupted, losing her patience for the first time. "Make your choice, or it will be made for you."

The candles flickered ominously, reinforcing the woman's ultimatum. The rattle also moved once again. While the first time it had only gently rolled a half-turn, now it purposefully moved across the table before stopping in front of Margie.

The young woman drew in her breath with shock. After slowly tilting her head to look at the toy from another angle, a smile formed on her lips. The unexpected and grotesque gesture – fresh blood stained Margie's mouth – made Josie shudder.

"It is done, then." Donatella declared before pursing her lips and blowing out the wispy smoke from her breath. Not only did the previously unlit candle spark to life again, but also the whole room suddenly filled with light.

Josie didn't even consider how this was possible because her attention was still on Mrs. Thomas Blackburn, sitting across the table. Unlike earlier, the woman now had rosy cheeks and was even smiling. Perhaps she'd gotten her much-needed answers, after all.