Haunting the Deep Read online

  Blair’s jaw tenses. “So much for being a dance committee member, Matt. You’re not even paying attention!”

  He pulls out the pen he was looking for from his backpack and peers up at her. “Sorry, what’d ya say?”

  “Ugh. Forget it.” Blair walks past him, and he smiles to himself.

  I smile, too. I have to admit, I’ve enjoyed watching the drama between him, Blair, and Niki these past few months. Not only because the rumors that Niki mail-ordered herself a boyfriend have taken attention away from my situation, but because Matt’s living with Blair, and their bizarre trio has spawned soap-opera-style fights in the middle of the hallway. I’ve never seen anything like it. He looks up and catches me staring at him, and I immediately turn back to the front of the class.

  “Okay, enough. The theme is the Titanic and that’s it. Stop chattering and get to work,” Mrs. Hoxley says.

  I open Susannah’s note under my desk and discover it isn’t from Susannah at all.

  Meet us by the bleachers after school. We need to talk. Don’t even think about saying no.

  Alice

  I knew they would want to talk at some point; I just wasn’t expecting it to be today. I haven’t spent time with the Descendants since everything happened. I was in bed for a few weeks recovering. After that, my dad was my priority. But to be honest, I’m not ready to talk about the woods. I actually hope to never discuss what happened. Thinking about Vivian hurts in ways I haven’t sorted out yet.

  I look past Susannah to Alice, and her black-outlined blue eyes challenge me. Sometimes I wonder if they’re made of ice instead of normal eyeball material. I lean toward her. And as I do, the young girl from this morning appears in front of me. My face almost collides with her dress.

  “What the…?” I jerk backward, and my reaction is so sudden that I half slide off my seat and have to grab my desk to keep from landing on the floor. She disappears.

  I pull myself back into my chair. The entire class, including Mrs. Hoxley, watches me. It doesn’t mean anything. Nothing. Nada. It’s a fluke.

  “Spider,” I say, and Mrs. Hoxley’s face wrinkles up. “A big hairy one,” I add.

  Mary looks suspiciously at the ground. “So not a spider fan.”

  The other students look, too, lifting their feet and backpacks. Everyone except Susannah, who stares pointedly at me. I avoid her eyes.

  The bell rings.

  “I can’t meet today,” I say to the Descendants.

  Susannah frowns. “Can’t or won’t?” She pulls on a black Victorian jacket over her floor-length black dress.

  “I have to go home after school.”

  “Then we’ll walk you to your house,” says Alice, pushing her straight blond hair away from her face like it was intentionally bothering her.

  I press my lips together and exhale. “Fine, I’ll meet you. But I can’t talk for more than ten minutes.”

  Mary stands up. “Are you mad at us?”

  “No. Not at all.” I stand up, too. “I’m just, well…I don’t want to talk about what happened.”

  “Well, good, ’cause neither do I,” Alice says. “These two won’t shut up about it, and I need a break.”

  “I can’t help it that I get nightmares,” says Mary, and crosses her arms. Her dark curls bounce lightly with the motion.

  “Oh.” Maybe this isn’t about the woods after all? “What’s this about, then?”

  “Just…trust us,” Susannah says. She looks at the straggler students who haven’t made their way out of the classroom. They grab their bags and head for the door.

  “How much do you want to bet the history department finagled the dance theme decision?” Mary says to Alice as they exit.

  I pick up my black bag and shove my notebook in it. Something shiny inside reflects the overhead light. In the bottom of my bag is a strange metal rod with a hooked end, like some kind of old-fashioned crochet needle. I’ve never seen it before. I scan the room. Nothing’s amiss. Maybe it belongs to Mrs. Meriwether? Could I have accidentally put it in here when I packed my books up this morning?

  I slap my bag closed and head into the hallway. I’m still amazed that people aren’t recoiling from me. They’re not exactly talking to me, either, but it’s a definite improvement.

  A shoulder collides with mine. I jump.

  Jaxon laughs and hooks his callused thumb under his backpack strap. His sandy hair is slightly messy, and his demeanor exudes its usual enviable confidence. His blue eyes dance with mischief. “Daydreaming about me?”

  I laugh, too. “You wish.”

  He opens the door to Mr. Wardwell’s AP History class for me. “I do wish.”

  I look at him for a second. Was he joking or flirting? These past six months Jaxon and I have just been friends—best friends, really. He gave me my space when I asked for it after the woods and after Elijah left. He even accepted my story that Vivian was after my dad’s money and that’s why she ran off when my dad woke up from his coma.

  I take my usual seat next to him in the back. “Truth? I was just thinking about how glad I am that I’m no longer the cursed girl. Now I’m just the weirdo everyone thinks sees dead people. Yay, me.”

  “For Salem you’re actually doing some fast social climbing. I’m pretty sure clairvoyant is only a couple of positions below mayor.”

  I smile. “Oh yeah? Well then, give me a few years and I’ll be running this town.”

  “You’re telling me. I’ve already started making my list of requests for when you take office.” He pauses. “Speaking of weirdness, what was that this morning at breakfast, anyway?”

  I shrug like it was nothing, trying to convince myself as much as him. “Is it cool if we don’t talk about it? People only recently stopped staring at me with that concerned look.”

  Jaxon hesitates like he wants to say something, then shakes his head and smiles instead. “As long as you don’t start flying around on a broom, I’m good.”

  Mr. Wardwell lays a few papers on my desk. He’s sporting one of his usual tweed blazers. “Some of your makeup work. I still have a few items to grade, and then we can decide what to do about those two missed exams.”

  I nod.

  The bell rings.

  Mr. Wardwell makes his way to his desk and turns toward the class. “Monday really is the best day, isn’t it? A full week of history to explore before the weekend.”

  There are a few grumbles. I look at Lizzie’s empty seat and sigh. I can’t help but feel partly responsible that she’s gone. She was the fourth Descendant, and she had a harder time dealing with what happened than any of us did. She left right after the hanging, and I heard she goes to a boarding school in upstate New York now.

  “As you all learned in homeroom this morning, we history teachers are making room in our lesson plans to include the Titanic. As head of the history department, I’m also working with the dance committee and the faculty to make the next two weeks immersive and fun. You’re all in for a real treat. It’s a fascinating moment in history, ladies and gents. One where approximately fifteen hundred women, children, and men died in an avoidable tragedy.” He talks about mass death the same way some people say they won the lotto.

  “When the Titanic set sail from England on her maiden voyage in April of 1912, she was the biggest and the most opulent passenger steamship in the world. She was eight hundred eighty-three feet long and was described as a floating city of lights. From the first heated swimming pool to the inlaid mother-of-pearl paneling, the Titanic offered passengers every luxury they could dream of…except enough lifeboats to save them.”

  I click my locker shut and check my phone. I already have a text from Jaxon.

  Jaxon: With Dillon. Be there in a min.

  Me: I’ve actually got some things to take care of. Don’t wait for me to drive home.

  I shove my phone into my pocket and head down the hall toward the sports fields. I push the back door of the school open and almost walk into Niki.

  “He
y, Sam.” She readjusts her navy purse on her cashmere-covered shoulder.

  I stop short. She never talks to me.

  “Sorry I almost hit you with the door,” I say.

  Niki waves off my apology. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something….Do you know if Jaxon is dating anyone?”

  I blink at her. “ ’Scuse me?”

  “It’s just you’re always with him,” she says, like it’s a bad thing. “I figured you would know.”

  I honestly have no idea how to respond to her. Is she asking me to not hang out with my best friend so she can flirt with him or something? I decide to shift the focus back to her. “What about you and Matt?”

  “Over it.” Niki twirls a gold bracelet around her wrist. “So if you could just—”

  “Piss off, Niki,” Alice says from behind me. “Sam isn’t going to do jack for you.”

  Niki narrows her eyes.

  Alice grabs my arm and pulls me into the field. The chilly breeze carries the scent of freshly cut grass and the promise of spring.

  I look at Alice as we walk. “So you and Niki are close, huh?”

  Alice shrugs. “Yeah, we have that thing going where we spend so much time together that we’ve started to look alike.”

  I laugh.

  Susannah and Mary stand behind the bleachers, black gothic silhouettes against the tree line. Susannah smiles, and her delicate face lights up.

  “So what’s all the mystery about?” I ask as we approach them. My words sound disjointed. The only times we’ve spoken, we’ve had the type of conversation where one person starts to talk, then realizes they don’t know what to say, and the whole conversation dissolves.

  For a second everyone is still; even the breeze stops blowing.

  Mary breaks the silence. “We need you to talk to the dead.”

  I frown.

  “Mary!” Susannah says, and Alice gives Mary the stinkeye. “We’re not asking you to come see if our attic is haunted. Mary spoke too soon. The thing is, Alice read her bones yesterday for the first time since V—”

  I put my hand up before she can finish Vivian’s name. “Don’t. You said you wouldn’t. And truthfully, I just want to forget all about magic.”

  “Well, tough,” Alice says. “Because you were in my reading, and so you’re part of the message I got, whether you like it or not. Chin up, chest out. It’s time.”

  Is she criticizing me for not bouncing back fast enough from almost being hanged by my stepmother? “It’s not time. I’m absolutely fine living the rest of my life never being in a situation like that again.” I back away from them by two steps.

  “So you’re saying you won’t listen to what we have to say, even if we need you to help prevent something bad from happening?” Alice asks.

  I hesitate for a half second and then shake my head.

  “Wait, Samantha,” Susannah says. “We know this is hard for you, but none of us are having an easy time recovering from what your stepmother did. We were right there with you through that whole awful thing, and we almost died, too.”

  There it is. The truth. “You said we weren’t going to talk about V…” Her name sticks in my throat.

  Mary tugs at her curls. “Guys, she’s not ready yet.”

  “Seriously, Mare?” Alice says, like she can’t believe Mary is still talking.

  Susannah closes the space between us with a few graceful steps, blocking my view of Mary and Alice. She’s so gentle and confident that it makes it impossible to brush her off without feeling guilty.

  Susannah looks at me now like she just wants me to understand her. “There isn’t a morning I wake up and look in the mirror that I don’t still see the faint red mark from the rope on my neck. We all think about it. We all have nightmares.” Her voice is calm. “We don’t need to talk about that night specifically. But we need to talk to you about this because it’s important. You trusted me once; trust me again.”

  I want to walk away, but I can’t seem to break eye contact with her. I exhale audibly. Please don’t let me regret this. “Okay, Alice. I’m listening.”

  Alice gestures toward the woods. “After you.”

  We walk through the trees until we’re hidden from any stragglers hanging out in the back fields. Mary pulls out a black wool blanket and spreads it on the ground.

  I reluctantly sit down next to them. The blanket looks like the same one we used when I did the clarity spell with them.

  Alice pulls her hair into a ponytail. “Despite what you may think, Sam, none of us are ready to deal with the outside world right now. Personally, I’d like to spend the rest of the year with nothing more serious to think about than what I’m going to wear to the Spring Fling. And if I never hear the dopes in our school gossiping about the shreds of misinformation they have from that night, it will be too soon.” She twirls a leaf between her fingers. “We haven’t even attempted magic. The only reason I read my bones yesterday was to convince Mary that all threats had passed. You have no idea how many times in a row she can ask the same damn question.”

  Mary rests her head theatrically on Alice’s shoulder. “You would be lost without me and you know it.”

  “Anyway,” Alice says, pushing Mary off her shoulder. “My reading told me exactly nothing about our previous situation. Instead, I—”

  “Found out something bizarre,” Mary says. Susannah and Alice both look at her. “What? We don’t know for sure that it’s something bad.”

  “The bones said you need to join our circle,” Alice says. “And don’t get your back up thinking we’re just using you to be the fourth person for a spell or something. I can see the wheels turning in that brain of yours.”

  An image of Lizzie’s empty chair flashes through my thoughts. Nothing good comes from magic.

  “Alice’s reading also said that someone’s coming.” Susannah makes eye contact with me, gauging my response as she speaks. “And we got the message that if we don’t work together, we’ll be like the wanderer. Darkness will be over us, and our rest will be a stone.”

  Alice tosses the leaf. “No more information than that. No matter how many times I cast them, they came up with the same riddle.”

  I press my fingers into my forehead. “Please tell me that means we’ll be traveling and not that one of us is going to die. ‘Rest will be a stone’ sounds morbid as hell.”

  Susannah tightens her lips. “We don’t know. As Alice said, we haven’t done a reading since the fall. We don’t know what we may have missed.” She pauses. “Have you seen anything odd, anything at all?”

  I make eye contact with her. “Like what?”

  “Like spirits,” she says, and I look away. Damn Susannah’s ability to read people.

  I stand up. I can’t do this. I’ve only recently started sleeping well again. “I’m sorry, but I can’t be part of your circle. If you want to go to the movies or something, cool. But if it’s about magic, just…no.”

  I walk away before they can respond.

  I trip walking up my uneven brick driveway. Awesome.

  “Samantha!” Mrs. Meriwether says, loading a stack of beautifully tied pastry boxes into her truck bed. She waves me over. “How was school? No more weird noises today, I hope.”

  “Nope.”

  She searches my face. She looks like she wants to say something more, but decides against it.

  I take a step toward my door and stop. “Just curious, but does my dad ever ask you about that night that everything happened?”

  She tilts her head, considering my question. “Your dad has always been the silent, stoic type, even when we were kids. One summer he fell out of a tree and broke his finger. The thing swelled up to the size of a plantain, but he refused to admit that it hurt. In fact, he climbed right back up that tree and jumped out, just to prove it couldn’t get the best of him.” She raises a knowing eyebrow at me. “Now, I have to get to the bakery with these new recipes I was experimenting with. But anytime you feel like chatting, you just come on over
.”

  I open the side door to my house. “I will.” But I probably won’t.

  The house is quiet. “Dad!”

  “In the ballroom!” His voice comes from down the hall to the right of the stairs. I close the door and speed-walk in the direction of the sound. We’re calling the room with the piano and the uncomfortable-looking old furniture the ballroom?

  I step through the door, and I instantly relax at the sight of him, alive and healthy.

  I avoid looking at the painting of Abigail that hangs at the other end of the room. In fact, I haven’t come in here since Elijah left. All I see when I look at Abigail is eyes just like his, eyes that I miss. And I don’t want to miss them. No magic. No thinking about Elijah.

  My dad stands by a set of white silk couches and looks up at the high ceiling.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just looking around this old place,” he says, and smiles. “You know this room was never quiet when your grandmother was alive.” He gestures toward an antique record player. “There was always music and hordes of ladies having tea and playing bridge.”

  I smile, too. “The way you used to describe her, I thought that Grandma didn’t have many friends.”

  “Not when she got older, no. But when I was young and my father was still alive…” His voice trails off without completing his sentence. “You would think this place would be too big for just the three of us, but Mom always filled it somehow. She would be severely disappointed if she saw how we never use this room now.”

  I watch him as he sits down on the couch near the fireplace. He hasn’t talked about Grandma since our conversation about what happened in the woods. Does this mean he’s going to want to talk about that now, too? He pats the cushion next to him, and I choose the side that keeps my back to the painting.

  He watches me. “What would you think about moving back to New York?”

  What? “Leave Salem? Is this because of my sleep? I was having a hard time right after…but it’s way better, I swear. I’m sleeping through the night now.” My words come out faster than I intended.