As the door of the Conservatory feel shut behind her, Sabrina suddenly felt a slight wave of exhaustion trickle down her back, ending at her ankles. Fighting all these stupid ghosts and spiders is starting to take its toll on me…
"And why are there so many spiders, anyway?" she grumbled as she slid onto the floor for a brief rest. "It's ridiculous. You wouldn't think there would be this many of them in one single house."
"And why wouldn't there be?" Leota challenged. "It isn't like there's been anyone around to clean up around here, or hire an exterminator. The house has been vacated of human presence for...120 years, in about two weeks."
"Halloween?" A small shiver ran down Sabrina's back. "That's harsh. Having such a sad anniversary on such a great day…"
It appeared that she'd said something wrong, as a deep frown immediately etched itself onto the psychic's face. "What's so great about it?" snapped Leota.
"Halloween's great," said Sabrina dreamily. For a moment, she become lost in reverie, ignoring Leota's irritated countenance. "There are parties, with tons of great food, and you wear ceremonial robes, and everyone gives presents…"
"For witches, it's like Christmas," Salem hastened to explain. "It's essentially the celebration of magic itself. When witches and other beings from the Other Realm moved to the Mortal Realm, they incorporated it into the human's annual harvest celebrations."
Leota scowled. "Informative story. But still…I detest it." I will always hate that day… "We should keep moving," she snapped, seemingly unwilling to offer an explanation for her previous statement.
Although Sabrina protested at first, Salem backed Leota up. The familiar didn't want to spend more time in the Mansion than was necessary. Pouting, the blonde ascended the staircase, noting the soft, plush feel of the carpeted steps beneath her feet. This place would make a great hotel…if it weren't haunted…
As she stood at the top of the stairs, Leota directed her to the door to the girl's immediate right, explaining that it was the Game Room. "All right, pool!" Salem crowed.
"Billiards," Sabrina explained at Leota's confused look.
"No, no, I understand the nickname, it's just…" Leota paused and whispered, "He can play pool?"
Sabrina laughed, for after all, they were talking about a cat that could type on the computer (with a pencil held in his mouth), talk on the phone, eat ice cream (when her aunts weren't home), and even drive that adorable little red toy car of his. And this same cat had once been a formidable warlock who had lived (more or less) like an ordinary man. Billiards and squash were two of Salem's greatest passions from his bipedal days. "Well, a long time ago, at least," she replied. Leota blinked, in either surprise or confusion.
Still chuckling slightly at the mental image of Salem (as a cat) trying to play pool, Sabrina quickly stepped forward to break the barrier on the Game Room. She pushed the door open and stepped in.
Paneled in a warm, light brown wood, the Game Room bore the air of a turn-of-the-century men's lodge. A poker table was to her right, and a blackjack table to her left. Further into the room was a large pool table, illuminated by the two windows on the far right wall and back wall. Smaller tables and a few armchairs were scattered here and there, and dartboards hung next to old-fashioned photographs of groups of men, posing stiffly for the camera.
Sabrina whipped out the Beacon, ready for the cavalcade of ghosts and spiders that she knew would soon appear. This is getting a little formulaic...
A faint chill spread through the air, and a small group of squeaking spiders scuttled across the floor, with ghosts materializing out of wisps of smoke in the air. Sabrina fired away on the Beacon, blasting the spiders with a vengeance. She smiled with relief when the small horde of enemies vanished. I'm getting pretty good at this, if I do say so myself…
Letting her arm drop to her side with a sigh, Sabrina cautiously inched forward, eyes darting around for the switch. I don't get it…where is it? Where could it be?
Intent on discovering the location of the light source, she failed to notice the dark shape attached to the window nearest her.
"Sa…Sabrina…" Salem whimpered. "Sabrina…"
"What?" she sighed, slightly irritated at being disturbed. The cat whimpered, gesturing with his head towards her right, before slowly backing away. Sabrina paused, and slowly swung to face the window.
What's there?
Nothing.
With a terrific smashing sound, a large…thing…flung itself through the window, broken glass flying like snow flurries. Sabrina shrieked, and shielded herself from the flying glass, but not before she stepped backwards.
Shivering, she dropped her arms to stare at the thing. It was a spider, of the demon variety. At least six or seven feet long, a hideous mottled orange with black spots, and clumps of hair sprouting from its legs in patches. It had at least a dozen bright, beady black eyes, and a pair of clicking pincers the size of her forearm.
I hate spiders…I really hate spiders…spiders are horrible…
"SABRINA!" Salem screamed as he grabbed a loop of the backpack in his teeth, and dashed under a poker table, cowering in a furry black ball.
Sabrina grabbed the Beacon, and began firing at the behemoth, arms shaking, and bursts of light ricocheting off walls, the broken window, and occasionally hitting the spider.
It clicked its jaws, and began shooting a white substance at Sabrina. When the…well, whatever it was…touched her leg, she screamed. It was wet. It was faintly warm. It was very sticky. Is this what Spiderman swings from? She briefly wondered, dazed.
The spider began moving towards her, dragging the web-like substance in, like a fisherman and his net. The girl screamed, clawing at the floor as the creature dragged her across the floor, towards it.
I do NOT want to be eaten by a disgusting SPIDER! And on my first case, too! Talk about embarrassing! This floor is filthy—my petticoats are probably getting covered in dust and dirt. I don't care what anybody says, this is a cute outfit, and I will not let it be ruined by a stupid SPIDER!
Her lip curled into a sneer, and she tightened her grip on the Beacon.
The spider, comprehending that its prey had gone limp, concluded that it was wounded, and thus unable to defend itself. Unfortunately, the arachnid was of insufficient intelligence to fathom Sabrina's hatred for "those eight-legged freaks," as she had once delicately put it.
Screaming in defiance, she lifted the Beacon and began firing bursts of energy into the creature's gaping maw. The Beacon's bursts of light were strong enough to dissolve the web, enabling the Detective to spring backwards and keep firing. One shot—be it through luck or some semblance of skill—punched through the back of the creature's mouth.
The spider emitted a high-pitched squeal before its body caved in on itself, and it rolled over onto its back. Slowly, the body began to decompose into ash. Sabrina watched the process incredulously.
The very air stood still. The pile of ashes that had once been a ferocious arachnid neither moved nor reformed. Finally, with a sight of relief, Sabrina sank onto her knees. "Oh, God," she moaned.
Salem leapt out from under the table, and bounded into her lap, carefully placing his paws on her shoulders, and licked her cheek. The Spirit Detective scooped the kitty up, cradling him against her body.
"That was SO cool, Sabs!" Salem's golden eyes bulged with excitement and fascination. "Like in Resident Evil!"
"Let's hope there aren't any zombies," Sabrina groaned, "or I swear I will track down another one of those spiders, nail it in a crate, and FedHex it to Drell."
"Is it gone?" Leota quavered from within the backpack.
"I would imagine so," Sabrina replied grimly, putting Salem down onto a nearby table. She opened the backpack, pulling out Leota's ball, and placed it next to him. And I can only pray that there won't be any more…surprises…like that spider.
"What are you worried about?" Salem scoffed. "You're dead. You don't need to worry about being ripped limb from limb by a man-eating spider."
"Good thing I'm a girl and he's a cat," Sabrina chuckled darkly, under her breath.
Leota, who had not heard Sabrina's comment, directed her attention to the cat. "I may not be alive any more," she snapped, "but if my crystal ball breaks, then anything could happen—I could be pulled into the afterlife, turn into a fixated ghost, or even have my soul destroyed."
Salem flinched.
Sabrina decided to ignore her companions, and moved towards the center of the room, fixated upon finding the light switch.
But still…nothing was there. The only thing occupying the room was the pool table. Sabrina sighed, and moved towards it. Is the light switch hidden around the pool table? Maybe inside of it?
A slight flash caught her eye. The cue ball gleamed innocently, faintly glowing. Moving closer, her heartbeat raced. Is it the switch? Could the spider have been the room's 'puzzle?' Slowly, she reached out and picked up the cue ball from the table. She paused, holding it in her hand. Nothing happened.
Then the same rushing sensation from the cursed painting in the Foyer overwhelmed her senses again. This time, though, she was compressed from all sides, weights pushing every molecule of her into herself. Her lungs were compressed; she couldn't breathe, couldn't scream. The room swirled before her eyes and dissolved into darkness.
The tsunami of pressure abruptly faded, and Sabrina realized that she was standing upright on something. Black spots swam throughout her vision, and when they cleared, she could see that she was standing on something green. The room didn't have a green carpet, nor am I outside…where AM I?
She backed up, into something hard and cold. With a screech, she whirled around. It was a pool ball, maybe seven feet tall, cold and intimidating and MUCH bigger than her.
Whipping her head in all directions, the Detective came to her most brilliant deduction yet: "I SHRUNK!"
Indeed, the Spirit Detective was standing on the pool table, to which she had been miniaturized and placed upon. "This isn't fair!" she screamed into the darkness, to no one in particular. "You never said anything about shrinking me!"
As if in answer to her outburst, a giant pair of white-gloved hands appeared. Not a body: just the hands. White and ghostly, hovering in the air. The hands scared her more than the miniaturization process. The hands picked up what appeared to be a pool stick—and aimed the cue right at Sabrina.
As the white ball shot at the black-clad girl, she turned on her heels and ran. The cue ricocheted off the 7-ball, and knocked it away from the side, smacking into the 4-ball, and rolling to a halt only scant inches from the corner pocket.
Sabrina panted, hoping that the hands would knock the ball into the pocket, and forget about her. Unfortunately, the hands aimed yet again.
Scurrying to avoid the cue, she nearly smacked into the 8-ball, sitting like a lustrous black pearl in the midst of the gaily-colored pool balls. Gasping for breath, she turned to the rim of the table, and began scrambling up onto the side.
I hope it doesn't suddenly decide to attack me over here…
She gulped, sitting, and trying to calm herself down. The hands continued with their game, staying on the opposite side of the table from her. Silently, the same familiar ghosts that greeted her in every room rose from the pocket hole she sat next to.
After blasting them away, Sabrina paused to weigh her options. No telling how much longer those ghosts will be coming after me—but those hands are going to keep trying to play 'Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom' if I stay on the table. Her eyes narrowed. Wait! Maybe that's it! Maybe we just need to finish the game!
With renewed energy, Sabrina leapt from her perch onto the table. It was a simple matter to run in front of a ball, and then step out of the way of the cue, she found. Slowly, but surely, every ball was sunk into the pockets.
Finally, the 8-ball rolled majestically to a corner pocket, and plopped in. With that, a small switch materialized in the middle of the table. Sabrina decided to take no chances on this one. She dashed forward, flipping the switch with what might be deemed more force than necessary.
Salem and Leota, who had been staring at the pool table since Sabrina's disappearance, grinned as the small shaded lamps scattered throughout the room flickered on, bathing the room in a warm honey glow.
Sabrina tried not to scream as wind swirled around her and whistled sharply in her ears. She was hauled in every direction at once, and her head was splitting. When the fluid settled in her ears, Sabrina realized she was standing next to the pool table, next to the cue ball, which she must have dropped.
Babbling incoherently, Salem shot off the table, and snuggled her feet. Slightly dazed, she stooped, picked him up, and began cuddling him. "And you were standing there, and then you were go-one!" he wailed.
"Aw, c'mon," she murmured softly, "I'm okay." She cuddled him for a moment longer, then gently put him down. She sighed deeply, rubbing the back of her neck, when she slowly pulled her hand away, aware of something strange.
The hairs on the back of Sabrina's neck prickled as she could feel the ectoplasmic energy coagulate in the center of the room, not far from where she stood.
Before her very eyes, a ghost formed, pale blue and pearly white. The Duelist was dressed straight out of Gone with the Wind, complete with mutton-chop whiskers and a pistol. He stepped forward, twirling his revolver around on one finger. "Well, Detective, Ah kin see yew've bin doin' yer job," he noted in a thick Southern drawl.
Sabrina nodded, trying to acknowledge his compliment, and not stare at his pistol. If a ghost fires a ghost pistol, can it kill a living person? "Uh…thanks."
"The name's Sartoris…Colonel Sartoris, that is. Is there any way Ah could help yew, ma'am?"
"Um…well…" she started lamely. "Oh!" Sabrina gasped in realization, "I have something for you!"
She fished around in her backpack, feeling a stab of guilt. This is horrible—but if these ghosts can't accept their deaths, they'll be doomed to this hell on earth for eternity.
Sartoris frowned as he watched the girl draw out a small scrap of yellowed paper and offer it to him. "What's this?" he muttered with a frown. "Mah…Death Certificate?" He carefully studied the drawing, brows drawing together in fury.
"That backstabbin', cheatin', lyin' sonova…" he trailed off when he remembered the ladies in his presence. "Mah apologies, ma'am," he sheepishly bowed to Sabrina.
He then paused, eyes shifting to take in every crevice of the room. "He could be anywhere...waitin'…" Sabrina quickly decided that if he had been alive right now, the Colonel's eyes would have been glazed over.
"He's upstairs…yeah, that's it…he's a-waitin' fer me…" He clutched his pistol protectively now, his eyes going back and forth like Ping-Pong balls now.
"Uh…hello?" Sabrina tentatively asked. The last thing I want to do is become caught in the middle of a Southern shootout…and he looks fairly trigger-happy…
Sartoris blinked at her, and seemed to lose some of his paranoia. Only some, however. "Eh, right," he muttered. "Ah'm s'posed to give yew this here Soul Gem."
He held out his hand, and a bright violet light shone from his palm. The light twinkled brilliantly, until it coalesced into a brilliantly hued gem, no larger than Sabrina's palm. She gasped in delight as she stared at it. The gem was a sparkling amethyst color, with deeper hues of purple that shimmered as the honey-colored lamplight struck it.
Sabrina accepted it, carefully wedging the gem into the next empty slot on the Beacon. "That thar gem strengthens the Beacon's energy," he casually added. The Southern gentleman twirled his pistol, gaze nervously flying across the room. "Ah reckon yew'd best leave a'fore the lead starts flyin'," he grunted.
Sabrina sweated nervously as she began packing the party up. "On that note," she blinked, swinging her backpack onto her back, "we shall take our leave."
Colonel Sartoris watched as the black-clad slip of a girl strode out of the room confidently, while two pairs of eyes—one amber, the other dark blue—stared at him from the cloth gunnysack she carried on her back.
I don't know as I reckon if that there little lady could possibly be strong enough to defeat Thorne… He twirled his pistol thoughtfully. And that dishonorable whelp of a warlock done gone and killed some of the best of 'em.
He looked at the scrap of paper she had handed him, again, studying the picture informing of his demise. I never thought it could have ended like that…I knew he was a scalawag, but that rapscallion done gone and PROVED it. Shot in the back…and I wanted to die honorably…
His eyes narrowed briefly as he studied the paper. Slowly, the pieces of a puzzle, something that had been plaguing him since his death, came together. But now that I done thought 'bout it, that must be the reason why I'm here. After all, I died eleven years before Thorne came here…
His lips thinned. Of all the dishonorable things that a man can go and do, this has to be one of the worst. I never knew vengeance could go so far…
Oooh! What could be the reason that Sartoris (and I'll give out a hint—the other ghosts, too) is here? We'll find out later… (The colonel's name, by the way, pays homage to the works of Southern novelist William Faulkner.)
"FedHex" is a creation of the Sabrina book series—the Other Realm's version of FedEx. Keep your eyes peeled for random references!
Yes, Salem can do a plethora of unusual things, like type on the computer (he hits keys with a pencil that he grips in his mouth).
Next chapter: In the Kitchen, there must have been one heck of a fight, because the dishes are STILL flying. Sabrina encounters a Lost Soul, and Salem discovers why the alcoves in the hallways are boarded up…