There it was, at the base of the bridge, a see-through figure in an old-fashioned suit; he was like the tail of a departing dream. Theta’s breath caught in her throat. Carefully, she stepped backward. The bridge’s old boards creaked. The ghost turned to her, and then, quick as a finger snap, it was right in front of her!
Theta cried out. She turned and ran across the bridge, back through the park. But at the curve of the path, the ghost was there, waiting for her. Theta skidded to a stop. Panicked, she whirled around to run back toward the bridge.
“Wait…” the ghost commanded. And then, very softly: “Please.”
Slowly, Theta turned. She recognized the spirit. Dark, wavy hair. Graying beard and mustache. It was Reginald Bennington.
“Wh-what do you w-want?” Theta asked, trembling.
“Go… back. She needs”—the ghost of Mr. Bennington took a shuddering breath—“you.”
“Who needs me?”
“The guardian of the Bennington. The old witch.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“In… the basement.” Already, Mr. Bennington was wearing thin at the edges, an erasure.
“Please. Please leave me alone.”
“She is in… grave danger. Help her. Help…” Mr. Bennington said, his voice lingering for a few seconds on the wind, though he had gone.
In the dark of the Bennington basement, Adelaide Proctor worked quickly. There was no time to waste. Her hands, bent by arthritis, were not as nimble as they once were. It was harder to wield the knife, but she managed a cut, hissing as the blood pooled in her palm. She let the cut drip into the bowl. Next she mixed in her herbs. She wrinkled her nose. There was a smell, sickly sweet. Not the herbs. More like a rotted bouquet left in stagnant water. Her weak heart thundered in her chest. She started her incantation, a spell for protection from evil. The smell grew stronger. Addie could not finish her spell for gagging. The lights cut out suddenly, plunging the basement into darkness. In the dark was a voice she had not heard in many years.
“Adelaide…”
A cry clawed at Addie’s throat, but she didn’t dare utter it. Still. Remain perfectly still. Whatever you do, don’t look. Shafts of street light shone through the high basement windows. Behind her lay the elevator doors. Could she make it in time? And if she did, how long before salvation rattled down to her?
Addie gripped the knife in her shaking hand. “What a friend we have in Je… sus…” she sang in a voice fading to a whisper, her mouth too dry to furnish more sound as she moved carefully in the dark, sprinkling salt behind her as she did. He was somewhere in the room with her. “All our sins and griefs to bear…”
The elevator. She was close. Blood trickled down her arm and stained the fine lace cuffs of her nightgown. The salt stung in the wound. She’d made it to the elevator. With a shaking hand, she pressed the button and watched the golden arrow slowly ticking off the floors. Four. Three.
“Oh, please, please!” she whispered. Blood whooshed in Addie’s ears. She was faint with fear. She would not turn around. “Wh-what a f-f-friend…”
The elevator had stopped at one.
“Adelaide…”
Miss Addie gasped. She tried to keep singing. “Our s-sins and g-griefs to bear…”
“You’ve freed me at last.”
She pushed the button over and over.
“And now I’ve come for you, as I promised I would.”
Through the frayed gray curtain of her hair, Addie stole a glance over her shoulder.
Elijah.
Once, he had been the handsomest boy she’d ever known, with hair that turned buttery gold in summer. The thing shuffling toward her had the mummified skin of the grave. It peeled back from his mouth; his yellowed teeth appeared monstrous. Two maggots wriggled from his ears and fell to the basement floor with sickening plops. That once-lustrous hair was nothing more than brittle straw sticking out in clumps. She could smell rot on his breath as he crept closer.
“You made me.”
Adelaide Proctor backed against the wall. “No,” she whispered. Elijah’s feet scraped across the floor.
“Did you forget your promise, my love?”
His voice was cruel, taunting. Not at all as she had remembered.
“Every debt shall be paid now, for the King of Crows brings us through at last. Soon this world will belong to him. And you and I, Adelaide, will be together, forever and always.…”
“No!” Addie screamed, frantic as a child.
The elevator doors opened. With a great cry, Adelaide Proctor fell against Theta. “Go, quickly! Oh, please! Don’t let him get me!”
“Who?” Theta asked, her eyes searching the empty basement. “Miss Addie, there’s nothing there.”
Miss Addie lifted her head from Theta’s side. The lights had come back up. Her dead lover was nowhere to be seen.
But I saw him. He came back.
As the doors slowly closed, Adelaide spied a frayed break in the salt circle mere inches from where she’d stood moments earlier. Something had fallen there: the blackened petals of dead daisies.
A gift to her from Elijah.
A warning.
As the weak morning sun broke through the branches of Central Park, Theta sat in Miss Addie’s Morris chair beneath an old quilt while a parade of curious cats meowed and rubbed their noses against her legs. One curled up in her lap, and she happily scratched under its chin while it closed its eyes in bliss.
“How did you know to come for me?” Miss Addie asked. Her hands had only just stopped shaking. Her sister, Lillian, brought out a silver tray with a tea service comprised of mismatched china cups.
“This is gonna sound crackers, but a ghost told me to come. Mr. Bennington’s ghost. He said you were in trouble.”
“Oh, dear Reginald!” Miss Addie said joyfully, as if she were speaking of a favorite old friend.
“He said something about how you were the guardian of the Bennington. The, uh, the old witch, he called you.”
“I don’t think the old was necessary,” Lillian tutted.
“But we are, dear sister. We are,” Miss Addie said.
“Nevertheless,” Lillian sniffed. She poured the tea into three cups and handed one to Theta. “The Bennington was built for safety, you see. There has always been a Diviner in residence. Someone to be sure it would remain safe from evil spirits. Before Reginald died, he entrusted that duty to Addie.”
“I think I woulda passed on that little gift,” Theta said. “How come Mr. Bennington didn’t seem scary?”
“Not all spirits mean harm, you know,” Miss Lillian said. “Some want to help. Or they need help.”
“I’m guessing this Elijah isn’t one of those, though,” Theta said. “Who is he?”
Miss Addie’s face went sad. Her eyes seemed fixed on a point in time long passed. “He was my everything, my greatest love. And one day he was taken from me, cut down in the prime of his youth.”
“Gee. I’m sorry,” Theta said. She tried to imagine losing Memphis. It hurt so much she didn’t want to even think about it. She grimaced as she sipped her tea. “What kind of tea is this?”
“Dandelion! It will ease your dreams. It will help you come into your power.”
“I… I don’t have any power,” Theta said quickly.