2015
"I liked Cricket," Taylor says. "He was kind of like me in his own way, stronger and yet weaker at the same time. I have different talents."
"Tell me about when you first met him."
"Me and Daddy were arguing about whether or not my Ariel dress is proper daytime attire. It's pink, the one she wears when she has dinner with Eric for the first time, so obviously I should be able to wear it to breakfast." She sends her daddy a dry look and Nico rolls his eyes. It's not the first time they've had that particular argument.
"You have play clothes for a reason," Nico reminds her.
"Well, I haven't been invited to eat sandwiches with a Prince yet, so I don't see the harm." She crosses her arms over her chest, four feet and six inches of pure defiance. "Anyway, I met Cricket and he knew things that no one else did. He knew about Priscilla and he knew about séances and he learned about the Butcher. Cricket knew a lot."
"And what happened to him," Sidney asks, jotting a few notes down in the little binder he keeps on his knee. It's a dark blue that matches the sweater he has on today, the leather spine creaks whenever he opens it. "Everyone's been a little vague about that." Taylor finally glances away from the binder, blinking a couple of times as she thinks over her answer.
"He thought saying Croatoan would help him, but the Butcher got him anyway."
2014
It's day number five and Nico's attempting to get his daughter to put on something other than her Princess dress when her entire frame goes rigid, head tilted like she's listening to something. "What is it, baby?" She's quiet for a bit longer, brows scrunched up as she turns to look at the door.
"There's a cricket in the house, Daddy."
"What?"
"I don't know." She moves with the glittery dress still clutched in her fist, Nico following at her side and pausing halfway down the stairs when he notices a man in a black suit standing at the base. He's short, maybe a couple feet taller than Taylor, and dressed completely in black which makes his white hair stand out all the more.
"And you must be Taylor," the man says, smiling when he focuses his attention on the little girl. She goes down a couple of steps, one below Nico, and pauses again. She's concentrating hard, like when she's learning a new word for the first time, but then her features smooth out like glass.
"You're like me."
"Not quite, little one, but close. You're something…. Well, you're definitely something."
"You're here to help find Flora." He nods, utterly fascinated and excited about the knowledge Taylor shouldn't have. Taylor continues down the stairs and Nico hurries after her, wanting to stick close because, no matter how smart or well-informed she is, she's still only six. "You were called by…." She trails off, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "By one of the people that used to live here."
"Indeed, Princess." Taylor preens under the attention, dropping the Ariel dress to the floor. "Do you think you can help me out here? Tell your aunt over there that I'm not the bad guy?" And now her nose is scrunching up as she glances over to where the other three are standing in the living room.
"Lee isn't my aunt. She's just my uncle's sister."
"Who the hell are you," Lee demands, taking a threatening step forward. The old man doesn't back down, just keeps his smile in place.
"I apologize, I always assume my reputation arrives before I do. Sort of like Dracula without the fangs and straight romance." He chuckles at his own joke as he sets his case and jacket down on the built-in china cabinet, but the others don't stop their accusatory glaring. "My name is Cricket Marlowe." There's a cricket in the house, Daddy. "Like Taylor said, I'm here to help you find your little angel."
"I think we'll let the FBI handle it actually," Matt states, actually firm. He's never been a timid man by any means, but he's also polite and his spine is made of modeling clay rather than steel.
"Let them help by all means but let me lend you some assistance where I can. If you don't believe me, then you can ask Special Agent Greenfield. I worked with him about five years ago now on a child abduction in Utah, we found the little boy alive and well."
"Nico, you wanna—"
"Already on it," Nico says, phone out and Safari pulled up. Just a random search of his name pulls up several stories of a sweet man that's helped find children all over the country. It almost looks faked, but the stories are typed up by respected journalists and there's a photo on the FBI's website of him and the southern regional director. "He appears to be legit."
"Of course I am," Cricket sniffs, the Louisiana drawl more noticeable than ever. Nico is intimately familiar with the accent, remembers his ghost and they way she'd tell him stories in the sweltering Louisiana heat. That had been back when he was a kid, hellbent on exploring every inch of his grandparents' house in Fort Polk.
"Then give us an example of your little gift." Nico crosses his arms over his chest, fully expecting Cricket to fail.
"That book of poetry you think is missing is actually back in Taylor's part of the attic. She likes to look through it when it's too cold to go outside." Cricket's gaze softens when it lands on Taylor, and there's a hint of sorrow that makes something curdle in Nico's gut. "She knows the dead here intimately."
"They're nice," Taylor grumbles, defensive. "Some of them are, anyway."
"Yes, I'm sure they have their moments. When did you first learn of your gift, honey?"
"When I was three."
"I was nine and I had to inform my nana that her keys were in the bottom of her trash can under a take-out container of grits."
Cricket begins to move after that, wandering through the open doorways, tapping his walking stick against the floor every now and then. It's a simple thing, sturdy with a silver frog on the top. He slowly makes his way through a circle and then up the stairs, the others compelled to follow him. He comes to a dead stop on the second floor, smack dab between the two crawlspaces with his cane raised just an inch off the floor. He looks ready to bang it again, but something seems to catch his attention and has him spinning on tip-toe to face them.
"Did you hear that," he asks.
"Yes," Taylor nods, little hand finding its way into one of Nico's. He turns his head to look at the crawlspace door near Taylor's room in the same instant that the little girl does. It's eerie, seeing her be so in sync with a stranger, but there's something other about Cricket, something similar to the feeling Nico got when he held Taylor for the very first time.
"She was…. Hiding in here." He doesn't wait for a confirmation this time, crossing the landing and slowly opening the door. Inside the crawlspace is a little white bonnet, worn with age and filthy. It's almost yellow now, frayed at the edges. Cricket picks it up and waits, looking sick and relieved all at once. "Flora is not dead."
"She's with—"
"Priscilla," Taylor and Cricket say together. Lee goes rigid next to Matt, shaking her head in disbelief.
"But Priscilla isn't real," she argues, frustrated and scared. "She's just a friend that Flora made up to pass the time here since Taylor wouldn't play with her." Taylor rolls her eyes so hard that Nico's surprised when she doesn't pull something, obviously offended at Lee's accusation.
"No, Priscilla is very real," Cricket insists, quiet. He's staring into space, like he's hearing something no one else can. But that's not quite right because Taylor is doing the same thing, tuned into a different wavelength than everyone else. Nico has a feeling the pair have totally different sources when it comes to this; Cricket's sends him messages about missing children and Taylor's sends her venomous snakes that aren't even native to North Carolina. "She's nine years old and loves making corn husk dolls. She was killed in the late 1500's."
"Corn husk dolls," Nico repeats, remembering the little dolls strung up along the banisters and balusters. It had felt like a warning back then, a hissing voice telling them to keep out, but maybe it was a little girl wanting to show off her talent.
"I'd like permission to do a séance tonight. Perhaps this little girl will feel up to telling us where she's hidden Flora."
"Absolutely not," Matts says in the same instance that Shelby gives a pleading," Anything to help find her." The couple has a staring match and an entire conversation just with a few eyebrow maneuvers so complicated that they should be part of the fucking Olympics, then Matt is letting out a gusty sigh and nodding his head. Flora is the priority here, and he'll do anything to find his niece.
"Good, I'll be back around seven when it's nice and dark. They seem livelier then."
The rest of the day passes almost in a blur, Nico barely noticing the fact that Taylor's changed into her pink Princess dress complete with bright red wig and a tiny stuffed fish she carts around under her arm. She feeds the thing and Nico wishes Monica could be here to see their daughter being so goddamn adorable.
By the time seven o'clock rolls around, Lee is full of nervous energy and Nico feels like his skin is too tight over his bones. Like butter scraped over too much bread. He almost laughs when he remembers that quote but laughing is inappropriate when there's a child missing and a kooky psychic setting up in the living room. They're basically the Addams Family right now, all that's missing is a butler and severed hand.
"I'm ready," Cricket says, pulling Nico out of his daydreams.
All the furniture apart from six chairs and a small end table has been pushed against the walls, candles flickering along the floor; a short line of them running straight out from two of the chairs while the others form semicircles in the even spaces between the seats. The adults and Taylor all claim a chair while Cricket pulls out a lighter and lights a bundle of sage. Gotta get rid of that bad juju.
"Spirits of the north, south, east west," Cricket implores, making the sign of the cross with the sage. "Father Sky, Mother Earth, hear our call." He sets the sage down and picks up a sewing pin, pricking his finger and letting a fat drop of blood fall into the hot wax of a pillar candle before sitting down. "Gods of this earth and the next, show us what is hidden."
"I know," Taylor is whispering, peering at the floor next to her like she sees something. "Bad things, she's coming. I know she is, don't be so pushy." Cricket doesn't seem to notice or doesn't care either way. He keeps talking, but Nico focuses on the way Taylor is too straight in her seat, mouth set in a firm line that's too grim for someone her age. "I've got Eve, she'll keep me safe." The snake is in her lap, its head butting against her hand whenever Taylor stops trailing her fingers along its back. Nico's attention gets drawn back to the others when the candle's light goes out with a faint hiss of air, gray smoke curling up from the wick.
"Join hands," Cricket snaps. "Quickly now, this woman isn't the type to play around." It takes some gentle nudging, but then Taylor's holding Lee and Nico's hands. "Who are you?" This question isn't addressed to the group, it's aimed at the empty space where Taylor's eyes are glued. "Why have you taken that child?"
"It's the bad lady."
"Show your face, dark woman. Are you so much of a coward that you can steal one child and break another's arm, but not show yourself to an adult? Let me see you!" He turns suddenly in the same instant that Taylor's attention goes towards a dark corner of the room over Cricket's shoulder. Cricket picks up a laminated card from the table, holding it up like a shield.
"Won't work, she's getting too strong."
"This is the prayer card of Saint John Gualbert. He's the saint of mercy, the patron saint of those who work and live in the forest. I ask him to surround us with his white light. You can do us no harm." Nico's not the only one to jerk in surprise when the pillar candle is cut right in two, the halves falling open on the table. "She has a cleaver and she's called the Butcher."
"She's going to kill us all." The certainty, the knowing, in his daughter's eyes makes Nico feel sick, like the world's worst hangover accompanied by the after effects of a panic attack. Her voice is flat, not quite her own, and he knows that she's right. "She was killed by the witch in the woods after cursing her people."
"Why do you haunt this place, Butcher?" There's a moment of quiet where Taylor and Cricket track some unseen thing around the room. "Where is the child? Where's Flora?"
"I told you it was Priscilla, Mattie. I told you."
"This land belongs to the living and you are not welcome here. You're the trespasser!" The windows blow out like someone's thrown a rock, shattering one at a time in rapid succession that has Nico pulling Taylor onto his lap on instinct. "Croatoan! Croatoan!" Taylor glances up in the ensuing chaos, leveling a calm stare at the psychic that has him freezing in place.
"That word isn't going to save you when the moon is red."