It was still lightly raining when the small group burst out of the Mausoleum. Sabrina groaned, wishing she had thought to bring a raincoat. I'm still afraid to use my magic…Thorne could track us down, and I don't want to think about what he could do to us…
"What was up with that coachman in the Mausoleum?" Sabrina asked, shivering slightly.
"Most likely, he's one of the few whose minds are trapped in the past. For them, it's still the 1870s, and you may be just a trespasser on the grounds," Leota warned her. "However, you shouldn't worry about the Mansion's own ghosts. It's Thorne's Netherworld minions we should be afraid of."
Sabrina shuddered. "Don't remind me."
"Someone has to," Salem mumbled. Sabrina shot him a glance that quite plainly shut him up.
Sabrina cautiously stuck her hand out. "It's not raining too badly, but I say that we should run for it. I don't want to get wetter than necessary." Salem mewed sharply in agreement; like most cats, he disliked getting wet. Unless there was bubble bath involved, however; but that was a different story. After helping Salem crawl into her backpack, Sabrina began jogging down the dirt path leading to the house. She hunched over slightly to avoid the rain.
The rain gently but persistently sprinkled the grounds, making the gray and ivory-colored tombstones glisten. The Graveyard's dirt paths became muddy near the edges, flowing into the wet-slicked grass. If the sky had not been so foreboding, and the situation not so grim and dire, the grounds would perhaps have held some strange quality of beauty. But, for now, any traces of beauty the Mansion retained were macabre, sinister, and strangely haunting.
Sabrina nodded her head in greeting to the Hitchhiking Ghosts, who were too busy fumbling in Phineas' bag to find an umbrella to notice.
Faint strains of music greeted her ears, which must have meant the group had neared the house and the new resting place of the singing busts, also known as the Phantom Five.
"Raindrops…oh, so many raindrops, keep falling from my eyes…"
"At least their music is mood and situation appropriate," Leota suggested, her tone muffled by the closed flap protecting her from the rain.
"I'm a-walkin' in the rain…tears are fallin', and I feel the pain…"
"Quite," Sabrina agreed, as she neared the Singing Busts. Waving in greeting to them, she quickly ducked inside the stone entrance to the Mansion.
Sabrina leaned against the wall, and brushed raindrops off her dress. Luckily, it hadn't been raining hard enough to soak her clothing. "Let's just wait here for a minute," she suggested.
"Just don't fall asleep," Salem quipped.
Sabrina ignored him and stretched her stiff neck. Where to next? Upstairs? Maybe someplace with a bathtub… If Sabrina Spellman could have her way at the moment, she would have demanded a bath. Followed, of course, by a change of clothes, dinner, and a warm fireplace to sit next to. "Where to next?" she murmured, voicing her thought aloud.
Leota pursed her lips in thought. "The Knight…I'm trying to think of the place he haunts…" she trailed off, frowning. "A-ha! Of course!" she announced triumphantly, after a moment. "The Pantry!"
"Salem, you're in luck," Sabrina cheerfully informed him. "Back in Victorian times and beyond, food was kept in the pantry, not in the kitchen."
"Food?" the cat's eyes bulged. "We get food? Do they have t-tuna?"
Sabrina blinked. "I…uh…"
"Whoo-hoo! TUNA!"
Sabrina smacked her forehead. "How do I get myself into these things?"
After attempting to convince Salem that the Mansion residents didn't keep cans of tuna on hand, they re-entered the house, Leota directing them. "It's the last room on the other wing of the Downstairs Hallway; just a little further down from the Kitchen."
Sabrina felt a cold, nervous prickle slowly shiver down her spine. It still feels like someone's watching us…but whom? Biting her lip, she swept her gaze over the hallway. And still, she couldn't see anyone; no other beings than herself and her two companions. "Maybe I'm just paranoid," she mumbled to herself, exiting into the Hallway junction. The busts that turned to watch her as she left would have disagreed, had they possessed the ability to speak.
As she entered the right-hand wing, Sabrina winced. A few of the imprisoned demons swung at her, growling their frustration at being held at bay from this moving target by a few boards of wood. She, however, was able to sidle along the opposite wall and avoid their attacks.
The end of the Hallway moved nearer, shrouded in shadows and thick, sticky cobwebs. Sabrina scowled darkly at the memory of the giant spider that had hid there. The seal on the Pantry door melted before her fingertips, and she swung the door open.
It's more like a dungeon than a Pantry.
The Pantry was constructed of cold, bluish-grayish stone, and most of the western, left-hand wall comprised of windows bordered by tattered curtains. On her right was some sort of gate, with thick bars blocking access to a room. Straight ahead was another room, the entrance to which was supported by one massive stone pillar. Indeed, the air was that of the dungeon of a castle.
Like the spirits of damned prisoners trapped within the dungeon's confines, ghosts sprung from midair, their jaws open in a silent howl. Clawed hands reached out to slash at the Spirit Detective.
Blasting at them with the Beacon, she could see two brown, oblong shapes slowly move at her from the back room. A high-pitching cackling assaulted her ears as she quickly planned how to attack this new foe.
As the last ghost shimmered away, the Shield Skeletons (as she was now calling them), hissing with laughter, lowered their shields and prepared to attack her with their sharp bone darts. Jaws dropping in shock, each received a smartly placed soul energy blast to the gut. They teetered for a moment before collapsing in upon themselves.
Panting, with her hands on her knees, Sabrina stared into the room before her, trying to ascertain if any more of Thorne's minions were hiding themselves in the shadows. Satisfied that she'd dealt with
She stood on a sewer-like grate in the center of the room. She was facing the pillared entrance, which led to the door out of the room. Cabinets cluttered the walls, save for one, which featured an enormous fireplace. The floor was crowded with tables and barrels; one table still had butchering equipment laid out, along with the bones of what Sabrina fervently hoped had been a joint of meat.
To the right of the fireplace was the entrance to another room. Curious, she started forward.
"Watch out!" Salem cried out sharply.
Sabrina dropped to her knees, ducking her head. A split second later, a meat chopper imbedded itself into the cabinet on the wall—where her head would have been, had she not ducked in time.
Leaping up and pivoting, she found herself facing another animate skeleton. Cackling, it was reaching for a sharp butcher's knife. Angrily, Sabrina retaliated by flinging a blast of soul energy at its head; she grinned harshly as its skull was knocked clean off, disintegrating. The rest of the body wavered, and then collapsed into a pile of jumbled bones that quickly vaporized. "Serves you right for attacking from behind," Sabrina nodded.
She turned to examine the room in front of her. The walls were mostly bare, save for a crooked portrait of a wispy, faded-looking woman with haunting eyes. The right-hand wall was mostly comprised of a long window with frosted panes. But on the floor…
The detective jumped back as a flashing light caught her eye. A square opening had been cut out of the floor, a red-purple vortex pulsing inside. The colors shimmered garishly, making her wince. "What on earth is that?"
"Looks like a warphole," Salem stared. "Although, I've never been near one emitting this much negative energy."
"This reeks of Thorne's doing," Leota muttered angrily. "It's a portal to the Netherworld."
Sabrina stumbled backwards, toward the wall. She stared fearfully at the portal. "N-netherworld?" she choked out. Definitely don't want to get too close to this, then.
She found herself edging along the wall, staring at the portal from all edges. It, in turn, glowed malevolently, energy pulsing. She glowered at it, edging sideways. All of a sudden, Sabrina bumped into something hard. She yelped, biting back a curse. Rubbing her head, she turned around.
The crooked painting she had seen before was directly behind her. Sabrina scowled at the culprit. Impulsively, she reached out to straighten the painting. As soon as she did, a strange squeaking, grating sound filled the air. Frowning, Sabrina stepped forward to investigate.
Unfortunately, she didn't remember the presence of the portal in front of her.
The Spirit Detective yelped with surprise as she dropped through the floor. Yet, somehow, she jumped out of the portal a few dizzying moments later. She staggered onto the floor, reds and purples swimming through her vision. She clapped her hands over her eyes for a moment, hoping to clear them. When she dropped her hands, Sabrina gaped at her surroundings.
The Netherworld version of the Pantry was…interesting…
Sabrina couldn't determine if it was the aura of the room, or the stones making up the room, but the room was red. Blood red. The window to her left had tattered, sickly-green curtains, instead of the somber deep purple drapes of before.
A high-pitched whining thrummed in her ears. Sabrina dropped to her knees beside the white-and-lavender portal, clutching at her head. It hurts…what is this? Slowly, she picked herself up off the floor, staggering towards the archway, into the center of the room.
Thorne's insect friends—the fat, dull green pillbugs that Sabrina loathed as much as spiders—milled around the room. Sabrina shuddered, and began blasting them away with the Beacon. Ahh…they still make that satisfying 'squelch' noise when destroyed…She ran an eye over the room. Looks like that's all of them…
Daintily stepping around piles of bug goop, the Spirit Detective analyzed her surroundings. The air seemed to pulse, and everything glowed hazy and red. The paintings wore malevolent glares, instead of the vague yet curious expressions of before… The mouth of the fireplace curved in what could be deemed a lopsided sneer, if the fireplace was a face.
The worktables remained in place, as before, but one was adorned with a coffin in place of kitchen utensils. Sabrina stepped closer, in macabre curiosity, to examine it. The box began to creak, the lid jiggling up and down, grunting noises filling the air as the occupant tried to escape. She slowly backed away, praying desperately that the coffin nails would hold.
She recognized the butchering table with its remnants of bones from her world. However, in the Netherworld's version, the butchering must have been very recent; the knives glowed a sticky red in the hazy light, and remnants of the meat still lay upon the table. The joint of meat looked as though it had been hacked at haphazardly…and resembled, to a frightening degree, a human leg. Fighting back a wave of nausea, the teenage witch backed away from the table.
She slowly wandered into the next room, looking around with trepidation. This place is horrible…the air smells so bad…I can't think what it smells like, but…ugh!
The windowed wall to her right was now smeared with a substance that could have been soot…but looked a tad too wet to have been anything but a body fluid…
Shuddering, she turned to her left. The grate that had reminded her of a dungeon hole was still there, albeit changed. "It looks like a mouth," she murmured disgustedly. Indeed, it was curved in the form of a demon's head—and the grate was the leering, sharp-toothed smile. Just like those horrible clocks they have around here…
"Is it safe to come out?" Salem quailed. "That portal thing was sca-a-ary!"
"Don't come out just yet," the Spirit Detective warned him. "It's not over." Frowning, she scanned the room. Her eyes rested on a switch next to the grate. "Hey, Leota, is this the switch to the room?"
"I highly doubt it," Leota replied, as Sabrina temporarily hoisted the ball up for her to see. "But, from the position it's in, it might have something to do with that door we're standing next to."
She might be right, on that one. She reached down and flipped the switch.
"Now, hurry! We don't know how time works between this world and ours!" Leota yelped.
"I'm moving, I'm moving!" Sabrina yelped, running into the next room. She sharply turned a right, skidding on her heels before catching herself. She dashed into the room beyond, leaping into the portal that would take her back to her own world.
It was really weird, she decided a moment later, to be jumping into something, and a few seconds later, be jumping out of it. Either way, the detective really had no time to analyze the mechanics of portals, for she was running into the next room.
Nearly colliding with the pillar, she turned to see the gates of the doorway slowly closing. Salem jumped out of the backpack, reasoning that if she had less weight in her backpack, Sabrina could move easily. He also was a bit wary of the closing doors, but he wasn't about to let Sabrina or Leota know that.
It's like one of those slow-motion scenes in action movies, he thought. Sabrina was dashing towards the gate as it closed. She should be slowly crying out: "NNNNNOOOOOOO!" in a deep bass voice… Yeah, that would be neat.
Instead, she neatly did a dodge-roll through the gates, landing inside. He couldn't see anything going on, so he slunk up to the gates. Sabrina was inside, in a room that looked like a simple storage closet, with a few random boxes on the dusty shelves. She flipped a switch on the far wall, and the gates slid open, allowing the cat access to the small room.
Torches mounted on brackets through the room burst into life, along with the fireplace. Curious to see the boxes' contents, the cat dashed inside.
In retrospect, Salem realized it was a very good thing he'd done that. For, at that exact moment, a small ball of black-purple flame appeared in the middle of the Pantry's entrance, growing upwards to reveal a tall, robed man.
Salem squinted at the figure. Who's that? Wait a minute…there's only one other living person here besides Sab and me…it's that…that…erm…that evil warlock guy…what's his name again?
"Thorne," Sabrina hissed, eyes narrowed in fury. "What are you doing here?"
The warlock stepped forward, robes swirling around his ankles, and unfurled his crossed arms. Immediately, the cheerful flames on the torches and in the fireplace sputtered and died.
Thorne turned to face the girl, a slow, predatory smirk etched on his face. "I suppose I could say the same for you," he drawled slowly. "Still here, poking your nose where it doesn't belong," he mused. "I honestly expected you to fail my little gauntlet in the Mausoleum. Hmmm, perhaps you do possess a shred of power, after all…but you can never hope to attain even a quarter of the power I possess. That human blood flowing in your veins…I can smell it. If you weren't sullied by this human filth, perhaps you could have became a formidable sorceress. But, as it is…"
Sabrina clenched her fists so tightly that white crescent marks began to form on her palms. "You know nothing," she hissed. "You say that your pure blood makes you far better than me, and yet you deform innocent souls with black magic. How DARE you!"
Instead of anger, only amusement passed over Thorne's face. "A mere child like you could never understand the goals of the grand Order of Shadows," he sneered. "But that is to be expected, naturally. No matter. When all is said and done, your kind will be the first to be purged."
Blood was pounding in the girl's ears, and surging through her veins like fire. Beneath Sabrina's seemingly easy-going, can-do nature was a fiery passion that could be raised from its dormancy at any notice, provided she was stoked up enough. And now, it was consuming her in a burst of pure fury and hatred.
Screaming defiantly, she dashed forward, wrapping the Beacon's energy around her fist, and preparing to fling it at Thorne's face. Thorne smirked, and disappeared in a burst of flames.
Bewildered, Sabrina looked around. Where did he go?
She received her answer a split second later, when a fireball connected with her back. Sabrina doubled over, screaming in agony. Lancets of white-hot pain shot up and down her spine.
Low laughter reached her ears. Despite her injuries, Sabrina howled with indignation and rage, and pushed herself off the floor. Lunging forward faster than she thought possible—and shouldn't she be unable to, since her back had just been injured?—she launched a volley of blasts at Thorne.
One seemed to hit him squarely in the gut, causing his lips to curl in surprise and what she hoped was pain. With a bark of a laugh, he stretched out one hand to steady himself against the nearby wall. "Well, it seems you've got a bit of bite still left in you. Since we've reached a stalemate, it seems, I will withdraw for now. As amusing as taunting you has become, I fear that our next meeting will be our last." With one final sneer, he teleported, dissolving into a flickering mass of fire.
Sabrina said nothing as he disappeared. Yes, it will, because I'm sure that I will stop you.
Salem carefully tiptoed out of the cupboard, dragging the backpack containing Leota in his teeth. "Are you all right, honey?" Leota wailed anxiously.
"Yes…no," Sabrina amended, wincing as her injury painfully reasserted itself. "He caught me from behind, and I think I've got a burn."
"Let me see," Salem said suddenly. He bounded forward, and Sabrina slowly bent forward to let him see her back. After a shocked pause, he commented, "There's no burn mark."
"Well, he definitely hit me with a fireball," Sabrina gritted. "I can feel that much."
"No, I mean that there's no trace of it. Your clothes aren't burned. If that was normal fire…"
"But it wasn't," stated the psychic. "I'm willing to bet the flames he commands are magical in nature." Leota's worried frown became more prominent. "You best drink some more Tonic. We don't have any medicine on hand, and there's nobody here to heal you."
The witch sighed with relief after her fourth bottle of Bravery Tonic, claiming it hurt less than before. Salem rubbed against her legs anxiously. "He'd didn't hurt you too bad, did he?"
"I'll live," Sabrina sighed, bending at the knees to pick him up, not bending her back. It still felt sore, despite the Tonic healing her burn. Salem snuggled against her for a minute, before licking her face and nudging her shoulder.
"Look!" Salem hissed, staring at the room where the portal had been contained. Sabrina turned curiously, to look.
Slowly ambling from nowhere was the ghostly figure of a knight. Sabrina's eyes widened in recognition. It's him! It's the knight from the 'welcoming committee'!
The Knight carried his severed head in the crook of his right arm, wearing a plumed helmet. He had a bulbous nose, and a drooping mustache. Clad in armor, a magnificent broadsword was sheathed at his left hip.
He slowly came to a stop, and cleared his throat. "Excellent work, excellent," he nodded at Sabrina. "You, my lady, have been most diligent in applying yourself to the undoing of this curse. With the Madame's assistance, of course," he hastened to add.
Leota smiled serenely.
"High time I introduced myself. Sir Bertram, my lady, former knight under His Majesty, now a member of the Headless Hunt. Always at your service."
Sabrina dropped a curtsey, figuring a little courtesy would be highly appreciated by the knight.
He nodded approvingly, before clearing his throat again and continuing. "Now, as I was saying before, and I…What is this?" Sir Bertram stared in confusion as Sabrina tugged a piece of paper out of her backpack. "My Death Certificate? My dear lady, do you, in all honesty, believe that I have completely forgotten how I died?" He raised the arm that was carrying his head, gesturing towards it with his sword.
"Oh…I'm sorry," Sabrina mumbled awkwardly. I didn't think he'd be so touchy. I mean, OBVIOUSLY he remembers how he died; his bloody head's been chopped off!
"Well now," the knight started, obviously uncomfortable with seeing Sabrina in a state of distress, "you did go to the effort of undertaking this quest…and you did retrieve the rest of my memories for me…" so saying, he gingerly took the scrap of paper.
He cleared his throat a third time. Sabrina wondered if his lack of being connected to one caused this.
"You obviously should be rewarded, my dear girl." So saying, Sir Bertram held out his hand, where a small spark of yellow light shone. The light grew into a yellow gem. "So, I bequeath to you this Soul Gem. Use it valiantly in the fight against this evil menace which threatens us." Sabrina eagerly reached out her hands to accept it, and began wedging it into its proper spot on the Beacon.
"Well, my dear," he continued, "you truly deserve another award for your bravery. Such an effort should be commended. So I shall dub you…a…" the knight cast about in his mind for a suitable title. "A…squire! Yes, of course."
Sabrina blinked. Okay…well, ordinary women weren't awarded titles back in the Middle Ages, so I guess I should be happy…
"Um…thanks…we should be going now, I guess…" Sabrina hazarded.
"Yes, yes, carry on. But don't forget," he pointed his sword at her, "that we are at war. You must complete this mission, Lady Sabrina. It is imperative…or we are doomed."
Sabrina nodded, stumbling backwards slightly. As if I didn't know that already…
"Can we get a snack before we go?" Salem whined.
Sabrina's own stomach growled. "Sure…as long as we can find some around here."
Sir Bertram wasn't much help; he hadn't eaten in…well, centuries…and he hadn't lived at the Mansion, so he wasn't familiar with what was kept, and where. Leota was just as bad, pointing out that they could simply drink the Bravery Tonic.
"But I don't want to drink my dinner," Sabrina pointed out. As her stomach growled again, she remembered just how long ago she'd eaten that ham sandwich for lunch. Then again, in retrospect, eating ham sandwiches before starting a quest in a haunted house is rather inelegant. But I don't care; I'm so hungry, I'd eat one of those spiders if I had to…
The cabinets in the main room yielded nothing, so she decided to try the cupboard. There were racks upon racks of expensive wines that must have aged beautifully by now…but no food to be found.
She sunk down to the floor in dismay. "Great. Instead of being killed by a Netherworld demon, I'll starve to death."
"Not if I can help it!" Salem announced. "Look what I found!" Sabrina turned to see the cat gracefully leap down from a dusty box on the highest shelf. Eagerly, the Spirit Detective stretched up (very carefully stretching, as she was on the short side), and tugged the box down. Inside, she discovered…
Cans. Canned food. Hallelujah!
Indeed, there were several cans of actual food. Granted, it had survived since the nineteenth century, but it still was food. "And look!" Salem cried, nudging one can in particular.
"Tuna." Sabrina blinked at the faded label. "Canned tuna. Well, I'll be damned."
Leota didn't bother to correct the girl's language, since she seemed both absolutely stunned and completely delighted.
There were a few cans of tuna, and some tins of what was apparently jellied chicken, and shrimps in a garlic sauce. Rummaging around in one of the cabinets revealed a tarnished, but still usable knife. Carefully, Sabrina managed to saw off the can's top, and present the dish to the cat.
Salem eagerly began eating, giving little feline cries of delight.
Sabrina sawed the top off of a can of chicken, found a fork in what must have been a silverware cabinet, and stared at her chicken. Not what I'd normally eat, but I'm starving here…
She paused, lifted a forkful to her mouth, and chewed. A little rubbery…but despite being a hundred years old, it isn't that bad. Well, at least being part-witch will save from any food poisoning this might give me. I hope.
The girl ate in silence, mind wandering. We have a whole second story to complete. I can only imagine how much 'fun' it'll be… She shuddered at the memory of the minions they'd faced before. And Thorne's more dangerous now than he ever was before. He means to kill us.
Sabrina stopped in mid-chew, eyes widening. She had never killed anything before…yes, she'd stomped on bugs before without thinking, but this... The thought was unsettling. She gulped her mouthful of chicken down.
It's me or him…One of us must die by the other's hand…this is the way it has to be. She tried to reassure herself, but nothing seemed to flow correctly. Death was all she could think of. It hovered at the edge of her mind in the traditional form of a reaper; long, bony hands clutching a sharpened scythe, blue robes hanging over an unseen figure…
No, black. The Grim Reaper wore black robes.
Why had she thought they were blue?
Sabrina shook her head, stuffing the rest of the chicken in her mouth, heedless of taste or texture. She needed nutrition, something to keep her going through this ordeal.
Hastily, she swept the rest of the cans, along with the utensils, into the bottom of her backpack. "Salem, we've got to go."
The cat looked up, faint traces of his tuna dinner adorning his whiskers and mouth. "Now?"
"Yes." She frowned, as she scooped Leota (protesting her rough handling) into her backpack. She picked the cat up, and hurried to the door. "Something's not right. And it's coming from upstairs."
Author's Note:
The two songs that the the Singing Busts croon in this chapter are Dee Clark's "Raindrops," and Del Shannon's "Runaway."
Sabrina is correct: In the Victorian era, and even further back, the pantry was a separate room used to keep food in. The kitchen was not the place to keep food, unlike today. Also, they did have canned goods back in the 1800s. The method used to preserve food in a canned format was developed during the Napoleonic Wars. By 1867, canneries had sprung up all across the U.S. (Although I have no idea when the can opener was invented…) Thanks to Flashbeagle, who helped me figure out what foods to give the poor girl!
Now, as a general PDA: canned food generally has a shelf life of two years. After that, there may be some change in texture or taste. The canning process involves high heat, and it renders the food essentially "sterile." If the cans are kept in an area with constant temperature, and if the cans are intact (not dented or bulging), the food is still okay. There have been a few incidents where 100-year-old canned food has been discovered; once tested, the food was found to be safe. In this case, Sabrina and Salem were fine because the food was properly stored. But in real life, if you've found a can of food and it's old or has a beat-up can, please think twice about eating it.
No, the knight's name is not officially Sir Bertram. Obviously, the man had a title of "Sir," and…well, to be honest, his nose reminded me of Bert from Sesame Street. ::hangs head::
Why, indeed, does Sabrina think that the Grim Reaper wears blue? We'll find out later… (cue evil laughter)
By the way, Salem's favorite kind of fish is tuna. Just so you know.
Next Chapter: Goodness, gracious, something seems to be wrong with the Trophy Room's fireplace! While the gang narrowly avoid being burnt to a crisp, they encounter yet another of Thorne's deadly minions…