The Observatory door slammed shut behind her. Sabrina leaned against the door for a moment, staring ahead of her. One last room. One final room to purge of Thorne's darkness.
And then what? What happens after that?
She didn't want to admit it, but she didn't have the answers. Neither did Leota. Uncertainty was familiar to Sabrina Spellman, but an unwanted presence every time. But she could neither ignore nor hide from the fact that she didn't know what to do.
And she hated feeling helpless. There was so much in her life that she couldn't control: her parents' divorce, her own heritage…even these strange powers. For once in her life, she wanted to take the situation by the horns, and fulfill her own dreams.
But could she do that? Was she doomed to be a puppet of fate? Could she control her life, or would the circumstances that she couldn't control plunge her into a world of helplessness?
One thing's for sure…standing here won't give me the answers I want.
And so, without any prodding from her companions, or desire to 'complete the job,' Sabrina stepped forward, and placed her hand upon the Attic door. A warm glow spiked her palm, as fire trickled down her hand in fluid rivulets. The final barrier had been deconstructed, and there was nothing holding her back.
Or was there?
She swung the door open.
The attic reminded her so much of the one at home. A sharp pang of homesickness stabbed at her heart, but she attempted to brush it aside.
Like all the other rooms in Gracey Manor, it was large, almost to the point of being ridiculously over-proportioned. The room was crowded with dusty knickknacks and forgotten antiques, most of them musical instruments.
Trunks and hatboxes were heaped around the room, on top of or next to broken pieces of furniture. Dusty paintings in elaborate gilt frames hung from crude nails hammered into the wooden walls or props.
Curious, like the cat of proverb, Sabrina stepped forward, to examine all the…well, stuff.
A chandelier hung from the ceiling in one corner, above a Chinese silk screen of pale pink and yellow. A wooden chest, with carved hearts and flowers, sat next to the screen. On top of the chest were a cracked bell jar and a globe. A dusty, fringed lampshade was abandoned at the foot of the screen.
Crates, broken chairs, small tables, and tarnished lamps with cracked glass shades occupied another section of the wall. She found a massive walnut dresser with a mirror to the back of the wall. Curiously, she opened the drawers. Nothing.
In a third corner was a beautiful old harpsichord, like the kind Aunt Hilda had owned a few hundred years ago. Picture frames and an easel surrounded it, like a protective cage. Sabrina stepped forward, running her hand lightly along the keys, not hard enough to press them down, yet firm enough to feel the yellowed ivory under her fingertips.
"Nifty," Salem remarked, after an uncharacteristically long silence. "But what are we looking for?"
"Mmmm, I don't know," Leota responded in an equally sarcastic tone. "I have a hunch, but I'm not sure…how about—THE LIGHT SWITCH!"
Sabrina rolled her eyes. The two of them bicker like an old married couple.
She paused. Somewhere, faintly, sounded the beating of a heart.
Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub…
Something prickled at the back of her neck as Sabrina remembered just where she'd heard that before. Oh, God. The Maids' Room…
A chilly breeze quickly wafted through the room, stirring her black skirt and petticoats. Sabrina sharply pivoted, beribboned braids flying.
In the far corner of the room, next to the harpsichord, was Elizabeth.
The bride held a candelabrum in one hand, and a faded bouquet of roses in the other. She seemed to hover in mid-air, her voluminous skirt billowing in the supernatural breeze. But, most terrifying of all, was that her veil had been pulled back over her hair. Sabrina could see nothing of the kind, soft face—only shadows. The soft, dreamy brown eyes now glowed like red-hot coals, only second in intensity to her blood red, slowly beating heart…
Lub-dub…lub-dub…lub-dub…
The bride's gruesome appearance never fazed the Spirit Detective once, even for a moment. "Elizabeth!" she cried, and began running to the bride.
For a moment, the hand carrying the candelabrum trembled. Her head tilted up so she was looking the blond witch in the eyes.
A single, glowing tear dropped from her cheek.
"Save us…"
Just as Sabrina was within a hand's width from Elizabeth, the ghost faded away. Sabrina stopped short, staring morosely at the spot where the ghost-woman had stood. "Elizabeth…"
Her only answer was the now-fading sound of the beating of a broken heart.
I want to save them. I want to save the ghosts here so badly! But what can I do?
"Arr, miss, don't be put off by Miss Elizabeth, now. She comes and goes, surely she does."
Sabrina slowly turned around.
In the center of the room stood the ghost of a portly man, dressed in the stereotypical fashion of a pirate captain—buckled boots, coarse linen shirt, nautical-style jacket, and a plumed hat. He rather resembled the picture of King Henry VIII in her history book.
"Uh…and you would be…" Sabrina blurted, belatedly praying he didn't take her blunt statement as an insult.
The portly man chuckled, and swept her a small half-bow, doffing his wide-brimmed, magnificently plumed hat. "My name, lass, be Captain Roger Butler—but I be better known as Red Roger, terror of the Caribbean." The latter statement was made with the kind of fierce pride that only a pirate can take in a bloodthirsty—or in Roger's case, greedy—reputation.
Wow. This guy would definitely fit in 'Pirates of the Caribbean.' But I don't think that Disney hires ghosts to work at their attractions…
"Um, nice to meet you. I'm Sabrina, and this is Salem," she gestured at the cat lounging at her feet.
"A pleasure to meet ye, lass. And, o' course, the lovely Miss Leota."
Leota flushed slightly. "Roger, you scamp, you," she teased.
Red Roger chuckled, his belly bouncing slightly. "Now, I believe I may be of some use ta ya, am I right?"
"Yes…" Sabrina began. "I want to know the full story. Just what is going on?"
"I…er…"
"I have risked too much to be this far involved and not know what I've gotten myself into." Sabrina pulled Leota's ball out of her backpack, and set it on a nearby cushioned chair. "Tell me, Leota. You said everything had a time. The time is now."
It's time for the truth to be known…time for my questions to be answered…
Roger gestured towards a bookstand that Sabrina could have sworn was not there five minutes ago. "I've a feeling that you'll want ta read this, lass."
Sabrina paused, before stepping forward and recognizing the book. "The Tome of Shadows."
"It's the last volume," Leota said softly, her dark eyes falling sadly upon the teenage girl
Sabrina touched the cover, and the book flipped open.
Tome of Shadows
Volume VI
Page 999
The fever has returned and claimed some of the laborers, but not before they completed their task. Recovery of the Beacon's Soul Gems is now imperative, as is gathering the final ingredients. The gems were scattered in an attempt to thwart me. My minions have still not been able to deliver them. Perhaps there is another way.
A. Thorne
Grand Master
The Order of Shadows
September 21st, 1878 A.D.
"The final volume…" Sabrina echoed Leota's words. All his hatred is poured out here…his never-ending pursuit of the Beacon…but for what?
"What does it all mean?" she whispered.
Leota closed her eyes. "You want the truth…"
Sabrina knelt down to face Leota. "What happened here a hundred years ago?" The psychic's eyes were still closed. "Leota. Tell me."
"He came here…" Leota whispered.
"Who?" Sabrina prompted. "Pull yourself together. I'm sorry if I'm insensitive," she pressed on, "but you've got to tell us all you know."
Leota took a shuddering breath. "Edward and Elizabeth were going to be married on Halloween, 1879."
"Really?" Sabrina perked. "Cool."
Salem gave her a 'warning growl.' The teenage witch deflated. "Sorry."
"The mansion was packed," Leota continued, beginning to be swept up in the memories. "All of the extended family, friends, neighbors, servants... Everyone was there, preparing for the wedding…we should have seen it coming. I don't know why we didn't."
"Seen what coming?" Sabrina asked, fear slowly beginning to trickle down her spine.
Leota looked up in the girl's eyes. "Thorne."
Thorne attacked the Mansion? But…but then…
"He nursed a grudge for seventeen years," Leota whispered, in disbelief. "When I had nearly forgotten…when I had thought that all the precautions I took were a waste of time…"
"Like hiding the Soul Gems?" Sabrina asked, a piece of a previous conversation drifting back.
Leota nodded. "It was an attempt to forestall anything in the future that may have threatened the Beacon." She gave a derisive laugh. "It just turned out to be sooner than we expected."
"And Thorne…" Sabrina trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her next question.
Leota shook her head slowly, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. "Slaughtered them. None were spared."
"And that's how they all died," Sabrina whispered, her voice dropping away. "The ghosts here…they're all the people he killed…" The mental image of broken, bleeding bodies scattered throughout the hallways in the wake of the mad wizard flashed through Sabrina's mind. She shivered, although out of horror or rage, she could not say.
"Yes."
"Elizabeth…was…was she…?"
Leota closed her eyes, as if reliving a terrible nightmare—which for her, it was. "He killed anyone in his path. It was the Beacon he wanted. He found Elizabeth in the Parlor. Demanded the Beacon. She, of course, wouldn't give it to him."
Sabrina stared, nails digging into her palms.
"She ran. She…made it as far as the Maids' Room. Edward had discovered Thorne's presence by then." Leota was quiet for a moment.
"Elizabeth took the blow meant for Edward."
Sabrina's eyes shut, crystalline drops of water beading at the corners of her eyes.
"She bled to death in his arms. That wonderful heart…just stopped beating."
"D-death cannot subdue…my love. My heart beats for you, and you alone…"
Sabrina began to sob quietly. Salem softly padded over to her hunched form, and climbed onto her lap. A soft, rough pink tongue darted out and began to lap away the tears coursing down her face like the rivulets of fire.
Tears were also beginning to slowly stream down Leota's face. "She was the light of this house. And that monster killed her…"
Was it Salem's imagination, or did he hear the slow beating of a disembodied heart?
"But…" Leota struggled to compose herself. "He didn't get the Beacon. Thank the good Lord for that."
"Yes, Leota, but there was also a down side ter that," Roger pointed out, who had been quiet out of respect for the two women.
"What down side?" Salem asked
Leota's haunted eyes turned to Salem. "Everyone in the Mansion was dead," she whispered. "Every last one."
Something clicked together in Sabrina's mind. "Then you…"
Leota swiveled to briefly face Roger. "Of course, since Thorne couldn't find the Beacon, even after the estate had been murdered, he raised our souls from the Afterlife. The fool thought that we'd tell him in death what we would not in life. Needless to say, his assumption was breathtakingly misguided."
Sabrina frowned, her fingers tracing designs in the dust on the floor. "So that's why so many ghosts inhabit the Mansion?"
The Creole woman nodded. "Our souls are confined here, as I've told you before. We are prevented from ever moving on. We cannot attain either Heaven or Hell, since his dark magic has locked us within these grounds. There is no rest for us." She paused. "We're trapped."
Salem snorted. "Let me guess—Thorne's the only one who can lift the curse, and he doesn't want to."
"A right straight hit," nodded Roger.
"So, we have to kill him to break the curse?" Sabrina asked softly, her eyes not meeting anyone else's.
Leota paused. "Yes."
The girl shuddered for a moment, and then turned aside.
Can I do this? Can I take a life? She looked down at her hands. What makes killing a monster different than killing a person?
Is there a change of consciousness between species? Does it make the killing anything other than an act of murder?
She held her hands up, and looked at them. Small, thin, with long, tapered fingers and broad palms.
Could she imagine them with blood upon them?
'Here's the smell of the blood still; all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.'
Was Lady Macbeth right? Once you had been soiled with the sin of such a foul crime, was it ingrained in you forever? If she did this, would she be stained with sin for all eternity?
She did not know; the answers were too complex, too numerous to be counted or comprehended. But one fundamental question remained: could she take a life, even if it was Thorne's?
If I had been asked what the hardest decision in my life so far was, this would be it. Atticus Thorne is a being of evil. He has no honor, no compassion, no moral strength. He has no soul at all. But, still, wouldn't killing him lower myself to his level? Would I lose my soul through this act?
If I killed him, would I become like him?
She glanced at the psychic. Leota and her friends have suffered so much. They lost their lives at the hands of this psychopathic monster. And, if he gains control of the Beacon, to do whatever it is that he's plotting, I have no doubt that innocent lives will be at stake.
Is it worth it? Does the murder of an evil person justify the lives that could be saved? But what about me? Is murder a slippery slope?
Will I lose myself if I help them?
She closed her eyes.
There's nothing else I can do. I'm the only one who can help them. If I don't stop him, more people will be hurt. The residents of the mansion deserve their revenge. The countless others he's hurt deserve their revenge. Edward and Elizabeth must be avenged.
And if it leads to my degradation…
Sabrina Spellman jerked her head up, sapphire eyes blazing with determination and, for the first time, purpose. Then I swear before God that I will be his last victim.
"Leota…I'll do it."
The psychic looked up at the teenage girl. I never realized before…how young she is. With the exception of her black, Gothic clothes and makeup, Sabrina bore a striking resemblance to Emily Gracey. Leota's eyes slumped closed. She looks so much like her…if I lost this one, too, I could never bear it. But can she do it? Can she save us?
"That's the spirit, lass," Roger cheered. He stepped forward and touched her shoulder. "Maybe it won't count fer much comin' from old Red Roger, lass, but ye need ta do what ye feel is right. Follow what yer heart tells ye is the right thing ter do, an' ye won't have any regrets." He gestured towards the Beacon. "An' ye have all the power of the Beacon at yer disposal. Have some trust in it. It's meant to help ye accomplish great things."
Sabrina lowered her eyes to the Beacon and examined it as if seeing it for the first time. She hesitantly reached out to touch it. And, as if responding to her fear and worry, the Beacon responded. Raw power swirled under her fingertips, encircling her body and absorbing into her skin. A strange rush of energy hummed through her veins. Sabrina held up her free hand, marveling as her fingertips tingled from the energy mixing with her blood. I can see why Thorne would want the Beacon so much...
Her confidence bolstered, Sabrina turned triumphantly to Leota. "What's next?"
"Well, first, I think you have something to give to Roger," the psychic replied wryly.
The Spirit Detective flushed briefly, before quickly digging in her backpack. She triumphantly retrieved Red Roger's Death Certificate, and presented it to him with a flourish.
"I've got to ask, though," Salem said, a faint trace of sarcasm inflecting his tone, "how did you end up on the plank?"
"Arrr," Roger growled, "'twas me own crew that mutinied on me." He paused, anger and frustration twisting his features into a grimace. The pirate captain sighed deeply, shaking his head. "The knaves 'twere right sore that I buried the treasure we found."
Sabrina's eye twitched. I thought all pirates buried their treasure…
"Even after they got half o' the loot!" he continued. "The ungrateful churls! Forty percent!" He paused, frowning. "Or were it thirty percent?"
Sabrina felt like smacking herself silly. Then again, pirates weren't known for their math skills.
"Twenty percent?" Roger puzzled, trying to figure out just how much he'd actually given his crew. "Bah! No matter. What's done 'tis done, I say, and no changing it. Now, Here's a bit 'o treasure fer you, lass."
With that, he gestured towards a bureau that was almost directly across from the group. The cracked mirror gleamed in the unearthly light the Beacon threw upon it, and the knobs on the drawers rattled faintly.
Cautiously, Sabrina began to walk forward, expecting some ghost or spider to leap out at her in an instant. Her slender fingers brushed against the dusty wood, before yanking open the drawer.
Lying innocently in the center of the drawer was a small black box, only large enough to contain a small piece of jewelry. Sabrina looked up at Roger and Leota, who nodded, before she turned her attention back to the box. Her fingers wrapped around it, plucking it from its nest of dust.
Closing the drawer, she walked to the center of the room. Salem climbed onto her backpack, where he climbed onto her shoulder. Sabrina gently opened the velvet-covered box. Inside the box lay a ring. The design was similar to pieces of Celtic jewelry that she'd seen before; where a stone would normally be set, the metal curved in intricate loops, forming a beautiful twisting knot. At one end were the sleek head and flippers of a whale or dolphin; at another was its tail.
Removing the ring, Sabrina held it up to the faint light emitted from lamps scattered across the room. The metal seemed to glow a greenish color, with faint hints of blue. "It's beautiful, " she marveled, watching as the light gleamed off the metal.
"Aye, that 'tis," Roger agreed. "The Seafarer's Ring, 'tis called. It 'twere a gift from me to a sailor mate 'o mine, Ambrose Gracey. We may have pursued different…er…vocations, but the friendship were still there."
"So…why are you showing this to me?" Sabrina asked, curiously.
"Well…curse it all, Leota, you tell the lass."
"When Ambrose Gracey built Gracey Manor," Leota explained in a low voice, "he created dozens of niches and secret chambers to hide the Beacon in. He ended up created the ultimate hiding place, though. He built a room in the basements below the manor, calling it the Inner Sanctum. To get to the Sanctum, Master Ambrose built a secret passageway accessible only by a hidden panel."
"And this has what to do with the ring?" Sabrina asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"The panel is sealed with a magic barricade, courtesy of some of Master Ambrose's Brotherhood contacts," Leota explained. "They tied part of the spell to a token of friendship that Ambrose had treasured dearly."
"I see," Salem mused. "Because they share parts of the same magical application, the two objects are connected to each other. Using one of them on the other can cause the application to falter."
"Er…" Roger stared at the cat.
"The ring can break the magical seal on the door," Sabrina translated. She shot him a glare. "Stop being so technical. You confuse people."
Salem merely twitched his tail smugly.
Sabrina sighed, and turned to the two ghosts. "And where is this secret panel?"
"The Foyer," Roger responded promptly.
"The Foyer?" Sabrina blinked. "That means…"
"That weird switch!" Salem yelped.
Sabrina quickly recalled the strange portrait hung on the upper level of the Foyer, and the bone-handled switch set next to it. "But, if the secret panel really is in the upper level of the Foyer, why is there a switch next to it? I thought you said that the ring activates it…"
"It does, lass," Roger interrupted hastily. "After that scoundrel reached the Sanctum, he came to realize that the Beacon weren't there. So, he set up shop, ya might say, in the Sanctum, and put the blasted switch there, so only he could control who goes in or out."
"So, that's why it was there!" Leota gasped.
"But, I bet he doesn't know that we can get in," Sabrina grinned slyly.
"You never know," Leota shrugged. "He knows that the ring can open the barrier."
Sabrina bit her lip. "I guess it's safe to say that he's waiting for us, huh?"
"Quite likely," Salem drawled.
"Well, I'm not going to stand around." Sabrina lifted her chin defiantly. "I'm going to take that lowlife down, or die trying." She slipped the ring onto her index finger, put Salem on the ground, and picked up Leota.
"It's time to go," the teenage witch grinned, as she put both the cat and crystal ball in the backpack.
"…And, Roger?"
The portly ghost watched her, bemused.
"Thanks."
A smile spread across his broad face. "No problem 'atall, lass."
Smiling at him, Sabrina slowly walked out of the last room of Gracey Manor, and shut the door. She stood in the center of the hallway, staring out the circular window, but not quite seeing the storm outside.
This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Will I be able to defeat Thorne? Or will I die?
And now you have the full story. Many of the 999 haunts are members of the Gracey family, but also anyone who was massacred at the wedding.
As for the pirate captain's name… If you own a copy of the HM book by Jason Surrell, you know that originally, the Haunted Mansion was supposed to be owned by a pirate named Bloody Bart. Why isn't my pirate captain named Bloody Bart? Because I don't want him to be bloodthirsty. The Friendly Ghosts were NICE people (You could make an argument for the Duelist, but I don't really care about that right now). Therefore..."Roger" is wordplay on "Jolly Roger," the name of the pirate flag, and "Red" is because all pirates had nicknames, and he reminds me of King Henry XIII, who was a redhead.
The ring here is the ring referenced to in the Museum chapter. The name in the game is the "Seaman's Ring." I decided to change it for obvious reasons.
The characters in most shows that I've watched seem to have complex views towards the taking of a life. Yet, nowhere have I seen someone contemplating murder—for a good cause—and wondering if they will become evil themselves through that act. Does the murder of one wicked person who will undoubtedly harm others become a justified act? Does not murder, no matter for what reason it is enacted, degrade the person who carries it out, even if it is for a noble intention? Does killing someone to protect others sink you to a lower level? These are a few of the questions I considered while writing this story, and that I would like you to consider as well, as Sabrina prepares to engage in the final battle.
Next chapter: As Sabrina probes within herself for answers, she must also prepare for the final battle against Atticus Thorne, Grand Master of the Order of Shadows. As he drops some shocking bombshells, Sabrina must find the courage within herself to save Gracey Manor, the souls of her friends, and the world as she knows it. But will her sacrifice end in tragedy?