Sarah let go of the handle and moved toward the nearby hallway window. The warmth of the sun was amplified by the glass, and she caught the lightest reflection of herself in the window. She didn’t realize it until she saw, but she was crying.
Tears rolled down her cheeks and dotted the floor with dark blotches that mixed with the dust and grime that the floorboards had collected over the years. She tried to remember what that juvenile therapist had told her when she was seventeen. She tried to tell herself that life wasn’t fair, and that everyone had a sob story, and that her problems weren’t that big in the grand scheme of things. But she didn’t care.
“It’s not fair.” And Sarah knew it wasn’t. How had this moment been thrust upon her? How did she become the goat for the future of the world? She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to do this.
“I know.”
Sarah spun around, finding the redhead floating behind her, though she was different, more ghostly. The striking red hair that floated around her head had faded considerably, and the vibrant and curious eyes that had greeted her when they first met had become sad and depressed. She was more ghostly than she looked before, like her soul was dying.
“Know what?” Sarah asked, keeping her voice quiet, unsure of where the witch and Kegan had disappeared to. “Know that this is all bullshit? That I shouldn’t even be here.” She wiped the snot collecting on her upper lip and angrily glared at Mary, who remained unfazed by Sarah’s grief. “I didn’t create this mess.”
“We know,” Mary replied, her voice soft and quiet. “But if you don’t save us, then everyone will die, including Dell, and I don’t think that’s what you want.”
The sound of his name pulled Sarah closer to Mary. “He’s alive?”
“For now,” Mary answered. “But there isn’t much time. The same curse that afflicted you is coursing through his body. And it’s growing worse.” Mary winced, showing her first signs of pain. “I don’t know who much longer he’s going to last.” And then she faded, growing lighter and lighter. “Help us, Sarah. Save us. Save him.”
Sarah reached out and tried to touch Mary’s arm, but all that remained was a cold patch of air. She reclaimed her hand and then looked back toward the door. Like it or not, and whether she asked for it or not, this was her trial.
Sarah returned to the door and opened it quickly before she lost her nerve, then stepped inside. She was sure she’d have to hunt for the orb, but she hesitated when she found it lying on top of the bed comforter in front of a pile of pillows.
It was too perfect, and as Sarah approached, she expected to set off some booby trap. But her approach went unnoticed and when Sarah touched the orb, she quickly retracted her hand.
The surface was hot, scalding hot, like it had just been taken from the oven, and when Sarah examined her fingertips, she discovered that they were red with first-degree burns. She grabbed a pillow and stripped it of its cover, then rolled it into the sack. She was unsure if it would burn through the cloth, but when she pressed her finger against the bulge at the bottom of the sack, she realized that it was cool to the touch.
Sarah headed toward the door and quickly scurried down the hallway. She was mindful of her steps, which elicited only a few groans on her descent, but what worried her more was how quiet it had become.
No whispers, no movement, nothing.
Sarah paused at the bottom of the stairwell, peeking through the crack in the door and checking the hallway. It was empty and quiet like the rest of the house. With the pillow cover slung over her shoulder like a hobo’s stick and sack, Sarah hurried toward the door on the other end, hoping to escape the same way she’d entered.
She glanced behind her just before she was about to pass the gap in the hallway that led to the foyer and the front entrance, and when she faced forward again, the witch was blocking her path.
“Look who decided to come home,” the witch said.
Sarah skidded to a stop, her heels scuffing against the runner that cut down the middle of the hallway. She turned around to run, but Kegan appeared from the bottom of the stairs, his face set in the cold expression of granite.
“Oh, he can’t help you anymore,” the witch said.
Sarah’s attention was split, and she tried to keep an eye on each of them as they slowly closed in. “What did you do?”
“Gave him a little dose of persuasion.” The witch puckered her red lips and blew a kiss toward Kegan. “I had a feeling something fishy was going on, and I was right. Turns out the Bells do have a conscience. They just decided to grow one at the wrong time.”
“Kegan!” Sarah screamed, but he continued his methodical pace toward her, those eyes set in a fit of rage. “Don’t do this.”
“He can’t hear you, sweetheart,” the witch said. “Drop the orb, and I promise I’ll make your death quick.” She laughed.
One hand still holding the pillow sack, Sarah aimed the gun at the witch, who only smiled.
“You think that will stop me?” The witch asked. “You foolish girl!”
The witch lunged, and Sarah squeezed the trigger. At first she thought the bullet missed, but as the witch slammed her up against the wall, Sarah saw the bullet wedged in the middle of the witch’s forehead.
“Mortal weapons cannot kill me.” With one hand on Sarah’s throat, lifting her off the floor and pinning her against the wall, she used the other to yank the pistol out of Sarah’s hand. She held it up so Sarah could see, then crumpled the weapon in her fist.
Sarah’s eyes bulged as she struggled for breath, then reached
