The Gathering Darkness
Read The Gathering Darkness Online
Authors: Lisa Collicutt
"I haven't read many books about witchcraft or witches, but I loved - LOVED! - the take on witchcraft in THE GATHERING DARKNESS."
-
Jessa Russo
“Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it”-
Roald Dahl
Robyn Blackham and Samantha Nauss, I heart you both. This one’s for you, girls.
B
eyond the village rooftops, they stared back at me. Cold, iron likenesses of ravens, strewn across the dormer peaks of the Ravenwyck Inn—a place straight from nightmares.
I hated Deadwich. Dark nights terrified me.
An icy chill swept across my shoulders. I shuddered and dropped my bags onto the porch floor. Mom and Dad had unloaded the rest of my belongings from their SUV and were now headed up the steps.
“Mom, please don’t make me stay here,” I whined as she walked past.
“Brooke, I’m not having this discussion with you again this morning.”
“But, Mom—”
She stopped in front of the red screen door of her sister’s cape house, turned and looked at me sternly. “You’ve protested this move all summer, and you almost had me convinced until last night. Getting picked up by the police for drinking at sixteen is the last straw.”
“But Luke had the beer, not me.”
“It’s one thing after another with you, Brooke. Your father and I think spending a year away from the city will be good for you.” Her voice lowered. “Now shush, or you’ll hurt Aunt Rachel and Uncle Jim’s feelings.”
In a last desperate plea for help, I flicked my eyes to Dad. He wasn’t paying any attention to us.
It was no use. I was a gazillion miles north of Boston, about to begin my junior year with my cousin and not my friends. But worst of all, the nightmares would return as they always did when I slept in Deadwich.
The scent of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee did nothing to alter my dark mood as the front door flew open. Aunt Rachel greeted me with open arms. I gave her a fake smile and let her hug me. When she let go, Uncle Jim scooped me up in his arms. After the greetings, we followed Aunt Rachel into the yellow painted kitchen. The whole scene was too cheerful for me, so I headed back outside and slumped into the porch swing.
As I answered a text beep, a sharp caw made me drop my cell phone into my lap. I jerked my head toward the disturbance. An enormous black bird circled above before landing in the large oak in the front yard. With a fringe of ruffled feathers around its neck and glossy plumage tinged blue, it was the biggest crow I’d ever seen. It tilted its head and eyed me curiously. Then with a whooshing sound, it flew off, but not before leaving behind an offering. I watched as a black downy feather zigzagged through the air and made its way under the porch roof, coming dangerously close to tickling the end of my nose on its way to my lap. A twinge of fear wedged itself deep inside me, accompanying the gloom.
I tried shaking off the grim feeling by scrolling through pictures I had taken of my friends the previous night. There was Luke with his arm around me, holding that beer—the beer I blamed my fate on.
The sound of gravel crunching caught my attention. I wiped away a tear and looked up to see a girl I barely recognized coming up Aunt Rachel’s walkway.
“Hi, Brooke,” she said with a smile in her voice.
My cousin Sammy had dyed her hair since I’d seen her last. She’d gone from a natural wavy brunette like me, to unnaturally straight and Gwen Stephanie-blonde, with a new set of straight bangs resting on her eyelids. I was impressed.
I forced a smile. “Hey, Sammy. How’s it going?”
Her blue eyes widened as they fell to my fingers, where I absentmindedly twirled the feather. “What is that?”
I held it out and gave a sharp laugh. “A welcome gift from a crow.”
“Ew, crows are bad luck. Throw it away.”
How could my luck get any worse
, I thought to myself, but tossed the feather over the railing anyway.
Her scrunched up expression morphed into an impish grin. “So, I hear you got caught drinking last night and ended up in jail.”
“News travels fast in the country.”
She was all grins, waiting for the dirt.
I rolled my eyes and sat up from slouching. “It was just a beer, and Luke was holding it, not me. The cops took us to the station when we wouldn’t tell them where we got it, and my parents came shortly after. Now I’m stuck here for the rest of my life.”
“It won’t be so bad.” Sammy leaned back on her elbows against the railing. “Deadwich is a happening place, and there are hardly any cops around. Oh, and there’s a party next weekend on Skull Island.” As she said it, she looked thoughtfully down the street towards the ocean.
“Skull Island? Are you kidding me?” Didn’t sound like the kind of place I wanted to hang out, especially when there was a sale on designer clothing back in Boston that weekend. “Is it shaped like a skull or something?” I asked not out of curiosity, but for lack of something else to say.
“No. There’s a legend that says two lovers were murdered out there, like a hundred years or more ago and—”
“Murdered?”
Great, a nature party with murdered lovers
. Not my idea of a fun time.
“Yeah, and some people believe their skeletons are still out there somewhere. Their bodies were never found. But like I said, it was ages ago.”
She talked about it as casually as if she was describing the local playground to me. I finally blinked and tried not to look so shocked.
“It’s a day-time party right?”
Please say yes
.
“Nope. It’s an all-nighter, actually.”
“And you’re allowed to go?” My eyes widened with curiosity behind the hair that blew across my face. I flicked it back and glared at Sammy.
“Not exactly. I tell Mom I’m staying overnight at Robyn’s and she says she’s staying here.” Her grin widened, exposing perfect white teeth and no braces.
Okay, enough of Skull Island. I had to change the subject. “So, how hard is working at the Inn?”
As I said it, a chill crept up the back of my neck. The after-school job, which Sammy had gotten me, was something else I wasn’t looking forward to.
“It’s not hard at all; we just make beds and fold laundry, then we can leave whenever we’re finished.”
I stretched and got up. “I’m going for a walk.” I’d slept through most of the hour-long drive up the coast and needed to wake myself up. I walked past Sammy and down the stairs, looking back over my shoulder. “Coming?” Sammy darted to my side.
I didn’t know where I was going; I just needed to clear my head and went where my feet took me. As we walked, we caught up on the past year, not thinking where our path took us. We had turned a couple of corners and come to a stop. It was then I realized where we were.
The Ravenwyck Inn loomed before us, looking like something from a horror movie.
“It still looks haunted,” I whispered.
“You’ll get used to it. I did.”
The century old, dark green building stood three stories high, up a short incline from the road. On the peaks of the dormers, each raven looked the same; wings spread, their tips arching downward like their heads. It was as if they were the eyes of the Inn, forever watching the grounds.
“No way can I work inside of that creepy old building.” I pictured long dark hallways and secret rooms and lots and lots of ghosts. I’d even had a nightmare or two, starring the haunted-looking mansion.
“Oh come on, Brooke. You’re not, like, scared are you?”
“Of course not.” I lied. I was terrified of the place.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you to Maggie.”
“Who’s Maggie?”
In a scary story-telling voice Sammy said, “She’s the Mistress of the Manor.” Then she laughed.
I couldn’t find the humor in it.
Sammy led the way and I followed. Once on the other side of the thick shrubs that lined the property’s perimeter, the place didn’t seem as foreboding. The parking lot was filled with vehicles. They had to belong to someone—right? The scent from the pink and white wild rose bushes, which hedged the landscape, mixed with the scent of freshly cut grass from somewhere else in the village, created a calming effect. Probably how Maggie the murderess lured in her victims.
My steps were slow and guarded. I was ready to turn and run at any moment as we approached the iron-hinged front door. Sammy peeked over her shoulder at me. I gave her a fake smile and gestured her onward. She opened the door and walked right in. I followed.
My mood didn’t change once inside the creepy old place. If I was to imagine a haunted hotel, this it is how it would look. Decorated with dark paneling and heavy chandeliers and laced with cobwebs, it held as much charm as Dracula’s castle might.
Off to the right, a wide doorway opened to a large main room where clusters of people sat engaged in a medley of conversations. Sammy led the way past a huge, dark-wood staircase, which dominated the foyer and wound its way upward.
“Samantha.”
The ancient voice crept under my skin and seeped into every cell, chilling me to the core. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned in the direction it had come from.
For crying out loud, it’s just a little old lady
. So why did I feel like I should run and never turn back?
“Hi Maggie.” Sammy smiled, showing off her dimples.
Maggie was alone, leaning heavily on a cane for support. She hobbled toward us, fixing her ice-blue eyes to mine.
“I wanted you to meet my cousin, Brooke,” Sammy said as casually as if Maggie was her own grandmother.
“Ah yes. How thoughtful of you, Samantha.”
Maggie seemed pleasant enough, until she spoke again. “
I’ve been waiting for you, Brooke
.”
Although her lips hadn’t moved, her sharp, frigid words pierced my brain like pointy icicles. Unable to look away, I stared at her, wide-eyed, while her teeth grew to sharp points and an inky blackness swallowed the pale blue of her irises.
As quickly as the apparition had paralyzed me, it released me. Once again, I looked upon the face of the feeble old woman Sammy had just introduced me to, with the new knowledge that her last remark had solely been meant for me to hear.