Tales from the Haunted Mansion Vol. 1: The Fearsome Foursome (7 page)

The others appeared startled, but the librarian’s morbid appetite had been satisfied. “The genuine article, is it not? May I see?”

Tim shook his head. “It—it won’t come off.”

The remark sent shivers throughout the group and, remember, shivers were their specialty. By then, Noah was seeing things Steve’s way: it was time to adios. Yet there were no visible entrances, which also meant no visible exits. He started checking bookshelves, hoping to find a trip switch or a lever. “There’s got to be a secret passage.”

“Oh, yes,” confirmed the librarian, “the house is filled with secrets.” That sent more chills up and down their spines as it became obvious: the librarian had no intention of allowing them to leave. At least, not yet.

Steve cut to the chase. “Okay, old man. I’ll play your game. Read mine next!”

The librarian’s smile expanded as wide as a jack-o’-lantern’s. “So eager, are we?
Daring
me to get yours over with?”

“Wh-why’d you say that?”

The librarian had hit a nerve, not just for Steve, but for the others as well. “I think we’ll save yours for last.”

Steve plopped down into an antique chair, where he remained in obedient silence, awaiting the next tale. For the others,
that
was scary! They’d never seen him back away from a challenge before. Then again, Steve had never been challenged by the likes of the librarian before.

The talking skull—
ahem, librarian
—turned his attention to Willa. “The young lady has something she needs to hear. Isn’t that right, Mistress Willa?” Yes, he knew her name, and no, she didn’t ask how. They had already gone through that routine with Tim.

Willa moved in close, like it was part of the rules—rules she somehow seemed to understand.

The librarian held out the book, gesturing for her to turn to the next chapter. So she did, her bracelet sounding like a wind chime as she flipped the page. The librarian’s finger touched the charms as he identified the animals. “The rabbit. The parrot. The goldfish.” He stopped short of naming the fourth charm, for that was Willa’s job.

“The guinea pig,” she said, tears welling from her eyes.

The librarian glanced down at the book. The next chapter had arrived. Willa’s story. So he began to read….

P
ets live. They eat. They poop. They die.

It’s what they do.

Chubs died peacefully in the night. One hopes. There were no witnesses. But Willa’s guinea pig certainly wasn’t playing dead when she found him keeled over in his cage. He’d gone the way of her goldfish, her parrot, and her rabbit. More or less.

Pets die. It’s what they do.

Willa’s family gathered that same morning to bury Chubs in the yard. There was a modest pet cemetery a few feet from Mom’s veggie garden, with markers for the beloved creatures that had come and gone before him.

A cardboard casket containing Chubs’s remains was lowered into a hole, twelve inches deep. The box used to contain frozen strawberry strudels until about a half hour before, when Billy ate the last one. Willa’s dad asked her if she would care to say a few words. She was trying to keep her emotions in check. All Willa could manage was “I love you, Chubs.” She sprinkled dirt onto the carton.

“Mmm. Strawberries. The best he ever smelled,” were the only words of comfort Willa would be receiving from that little brat she called a brother. Billy was two years younger. And even though Willa didn’t have a complete memory of the world before him, she was fairly convinced they were the happiest two years of her life.

“Billy!” chastised their mom. “Show a little respect.” Dad just shook his head. That’s all you could do with Billy.

But Billy didn’t apologize. That wasn’t his way. Billy never said he was sorry for anything. And the funny part was Chubs had been his pet to begin with. He’d arrived one Christmas, wrapped in a bow.

In the beginning, Billy took good care of Chubs; the best he could, Willa supposed. He even picked out the stupid name, on account of Chubs’s obvious weight issue. But by the time January rolled around, the writing was on the wall. Billy was incapable of taking care of a pet. The cage was never cleaned, the water rarely replaced. And that was when Willa inherited Chubs for good. He moved into her room and had lived there ever since. Until that morning.

Now he lived in a frozen strudel box.

Willa knew the rest of the routine all too well. In about an hour, her father would ask, “Do you want another one?” as if Chubs was as replaceable as an ice cream cone.

After the funeral, Willa moped back to her room and plopped down on her bed. She wished she could sleep forever. Or at least until Friday. There was a soft knock at her door. Willa’s head shot up.
Please,
she thought,
anyone but Billy.
Then she realized it couldn’t be him. The knock was way too polite.

Willa’s mom entered, carrying a tray with tea and fresh apricot scones. It was time for the talk. The “pets eat, they poop, they die” speech. Willa could practically recite it in her sleep. After a bite of a scone, she said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

To Willa’s surprise, neither did her mom. She had come with a gift. “Put out your wrist.” Willa did so and her mom slipped on a new bracelet—its four charms representing her deceased pets. “I just heard the weather report,” her mom continued, changing the subject. “It’s going to be a beautiful night. Why not have a few friends over for a sleep-out? Dad could pitch a tent in the yard.”

To Willa, this seemed a terrible idea. The last thing she felt like doing was hearing Kayla, Tanisha, and Cassidy babble on about boys and pedicures while Chubs lay rotting under the earth. Maybe if Tim was allowed to attend…But sleep-outs had a strict no-boys policy. And besides, Tim had a big game the next day.

Her mom wouldn’t let up. “You can make s’mores. Tell a few ghost stories. Good times for all.”

Hmm.
Sounding better. A tent in the yard was always spooky fun. Maybe a sleep-out would help her forget, if just for a little while. Willa always loved a good s’more. But not as much as she loved a good ghost story.

It was just after midnight. The girls were huddled together in the center of the tent, Cassidy at maximum-level annoying. Too much sugar or hormones or both. She was grilling Willa about Steve’s “availability,” to which Willa replied, “We’re twelve. We’re all available.” But the endless gossip did take Willa’s mind off Chubs…temporarily.

Now don’t go swallowing your tongue just yet. Young Willa will be thinking about her dearly departed pet soon enough. Oh, they
all
will.

The breeze picked up and soon the tent was rattling like mad. So much for the weather report. Willa went outside to reinforce the stakes. Tanisha was already suggesting they pack it in. But that wasn’t happening. Mother Nature was letting them know the time was right for the next phase of the sleep-out. The final phase. And there would be very little sleeping after that.

After returning to the tent, Willa adjusted the light on a retrofitted lantern. The mood was just right. “Kayla. Why don’t you show Cass and Tanny what you brought?” Willa already knew what was in the tiny felt pouch. It was something new and ought to be good for a few giggles.

Kayla held up the pouch, announcing its contents. “Behold—an actual witch-bone!”

Tanisha wrinkled her nose. “A witch-bone? What’s a witch-bone?” Now
that
was a mystery.

Kayla slipped two fingers into the pouch. “The gypsy lady said it has great power.” She did her best gypsy lady voice. “But von must use de caution ven von vishes ta invok de undervorld.”

The others looked at her cockeyed before issuing a collective “WHAT?”

Kayla sighed, then repeated the gypsy lady’s words in her regular voice. “One must use caution when one wishes to invoke the underworld.”

“OH.”

Tanisha shook her head. “Those people are all fakes. My dad says that psychics and people who say they have powers aren’t real, otherwise they’d be rich. They’d know all the lottery numbers the day before and they’d win a million dollars every time. Was the gypsy lady rich?”

Cassidy tilted her head. “Uh-duh! She worked in a carnival.”

“That’s what I thought.”

It would be about two seconds before they were talking boys again. Willa needed to reel them back in. She held the lantern under her chin, giving her face an unworldly glow. “The spirit world has no use for money. They only want your soul!” With her best creepy cackle, Willa turned off the lantern.
Click!
Pitch-black.

She was hoping for screams.

Nothing came. She waited. Talk about a non-reaction. They didn’t even beg for the light to come back on—though they were thinking it. The wind was really doing a number on the tent. Finally, Tanisha broke down. “Lights, please!”

Willa held out a few more seconds; then the lantern popped on and the others were looking at a face they wouldn’t soon forget. Willa’s eyes had turned white, her hair was sticking straight up, and she was chanting in a witchy voice, “I’m gonna get you, I’m gonna get yooooou!”

The girls scrambled to the opposite side of the tent. Tanisha’s lip quivered. Cassidy made a cross with two fingers. Kayla sat on a juice box.
Squirt!

Willa couldn’t hold the look any longer. Her pupils rolled down from her skull and she burst into hysterics. “Sorry, but I had to!” It was a face she’d done for the Fearsome Foursome about a billion times. Of course, it no longer had the desired effect on Tim, Noah, and Steve. “Willa’s doing the eye thingy again. Oh, I’m soooo scared.” But on Kayla, Cassidy, and Tanisha, it worked like a chilling charm.

“That wasn’t funny,” said Tanisha. A lull of disquiet took over the tent. Had Willa gone too far?
If you were reading
Happy Camp Diaries
, yes, too far. Correct me if I’m wrong, but this is still
Tales from the Haunted Mansion
, which means Willa hadn’t gone far enough.

To her relief, the silence was broken by laughter. Apparently, Cassidy and Tanisha had just gotten the memo: it was fun to get scared, as long as you knew it was pretend. Like on a roller coaster. Or at a haunted house.

Yet for some reason, Kayla hadn’t joined in. “Silence!” she commanded. The girls settled down. “Where was I?” It didn’t sound like Kayla was asking. More like she was
telling
. She looked transformed, as if she was holding her own seance circle of sorts, and channeling someone else’s spirit. Perhaps it was the gypsy lady, Madam Whoever, with instructions from the beyond.

“Proceed, Madam Kayla,” said Willa, keeping with the mood.

Kayla shot her an icy look. “I am not Kayla.”
Good one,
thought Willa.
She’s really selling it.

She sold it, all right. Kayla’s manner was creepy and authentic. A well timed
boo
would have sent Cassidy and Tanisha skyrocketing through the roof. On any other night, Willa would have gone for it. But after the scary-eye thingy, she didn’t want to risk a mass exodus. She was having too much fun for that.

Kayla removed the witch-bone from the pouch. If we’re being honest, it looked exactly like a turkey wishbone dipped in shellac.