The Gathering Darkness

  "I haven't read many books about witchcraft or witches, but I loved - LOVED! - the take on witchcraft in THE GATHERING DARKNESS." - Jessa Russo

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  Acknowledgments

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  “Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it”- Roald Dahl

  Robyn Blackham and Samantha Nauss, I heart you both. This one’s for you, girls.

  Chapter One

  Beyond the village rooftops, they stared back at me. Cold, iron likenesses of ravens, strewn across the dormer peaks of the Ravenwyck Inn—a place straight from nightmares.

  I hated Deadwich. Dark nights terrified me.

  An icy chill swept across my shoulders. I shuddered and dropped my bags onto the porch floor. Mom and Dad had unloaded the rest of my belongings from their SUV and were now headed up the steps.

  “Mom, please don’t make me stay here,” I whined as she walked past.

  “Brooke, I’m not having this discussion with you again this morning.”

  “But, Mom—”

  She stopped in front of the red screen door of her sister’s cape house, turned and looked at me sternly. “You’ve protested this move all summer, and you almost had me convinced until last night. Getting picked up by the police for drinking at sixteen is the last straw.”

  “But Luke had the beer, not me.”

  “It’s one thing after another with you, Brooke. Your father and I think spending a year away from the city will be good for you.” Her voice lowered. “Now shush, or you’ll hurt Aunt Rachel and Uncle Jim’s feelings.”

  In a last desperate plea for help, I flicked my eyes to Dad. He wasn’t paying any attention to us.

  It was no use. I was a gazillion miles north of Boston, about to begin my junior year with my cousin and not my friends. But worst of all, the nightmares would return as they always did when I slept in Deadwich.

  The scent of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee did nothing to alter my dark mood as the front door flew open. Aunt Rachel greeted me with open arms. I gave her a fake smile and let her hug me. When she let go, Uncle Jim scooped me up in his arms. After the greetings, we followed Aunt Rachel into the yellow painted kitchen. The whole scene was too cheerful for me, so I headed back outside and slumped into the porch swing.

  As I answered a text beep, a sharp caw made me drop my cell phone into my lap. I jerked my head toward the disturbance. An enormous black bird circled above before landing in the large oak in the front yard. With a fringe of ruffled feathers around its neck and glossy plumage tinged blue, it was the biggest crow I’d ever seen. It tilted its head and eyed me curiously. Then with a whooshing sound, it flew off, but not before leaving behind an offering. I watched as a black downy feather zigzagged through the air and made its way under the porch roof, coming dangerously close to tickling the end of my nose on its way to my lap. A twinge of fear wedged itself deep inside me, accompanying the gloom.

  I tried shaking off the grim feeling by scrolling through pictures I had taken of my friends the previous night. There was Luke with his arm around me, holding that beer—the beer I blamed my fate on.

  The sound of gravel crunching caught my attention. I wiped away a tear and looked up to see a girl I barely recognized coming up Aunt Rachel’s walkway.

  “Hi, Brooke,” she said with a smile in her voice.

  My cousin Sammy had dyed her hair since I’d seen her last. She’d gone from a natural wavy brunette like me, to unnaturally straight and Gwen Stephanie-blonde, with a new set of straight bangs resting on her eyelids. I was impressed.

  I forced a smile. “Hey, Sammy. How’s it going?”

  Her blue eyes widened as they fell to my fingers, where I absentmindedly twirled the feather. “What is that?”

  I held it out and gave a sharp laugh. “A welcome gift from a crow.”

  “Ew, crows are bad luck. Throw it away.”

  How could my luck get any worse, I thought to myself, but tossed the feather over the railing anyway.

  Her scrunched up expression morphed into an impish grin. “So, I hear you got caught drinking last night and ended up in jail.”

  “News travels fast in the country.”

  She was all grins, waiting for the dirt.

  I rolled my eyes and sat up from slouching. “It was just a beer, and Luke was holding it, not me. The cops took us to the station when we wouldn’t tell them where we got it, and my parents came shortly after. Now I’m stuck here for the rest of my life.”

  “It won’t be so bad.” Sammy leaned back on her elbows against the railing. “Deadwich is a happening place, and there are hardly any cops around. Oh, and there’s a party next weekend on Skull Island.” As she said it, she looked thoughtfully down the street towards the ocean.

  “Skull Island? Are you kidding me?” Didn’t sound like the kind of place I wanted to hang out, especially when there was a sale on designer clothing back in Boston that weekend. “Is it shaped like a skull or something?” I asked not out of curiosity, but for lack of something else to say.

  “No. There’s a legend that says two lovers were murdered out there, like a hundred years or more ago and—”

  “Murdered?” Great, a nature party with murdered lovers. Not my idea of a fun time.

  “Yeah, and some people believe their skeletons are still out there somewhere. Their bodies were never found. But like I said, it was ages ago.”

  She talked about it as casually as if she was describing the local playground to me. I finally blinked and tried not to look so shocked.

  “It’s a day-time party right?” Please say yes.

  “Nope. It’s an all-nighter, actually.”

  “And you’re allowed to go?” My eyes widened with curiosity behind the hair that blew across my face. I flicked it back and glared at Sammy.

  “Not exactly. I tell Mom I’m staying overnight at Robyn’s and she says she’s staying here.” Her grin widened, exposing perfect white teeth and no braces.

  Okay, enough of Skull Island. I had to change the subject. “So, how hard is working at the Inn?”

  As I said it, a chill crept up the back of my neck. The after-school job, which Sammy had gotten me, was something else I wasn’t looking forward to.

  “It’s not hard at all; we just make beds and fold laundry, then we can leave whenever we’re finished.”

  I stretched and got up. “I’m going for a walk.” I’d slept through most of the hour-long drive up the coast and needed to wake myself up. I walked past Sammy and down the stairs, looking back over my shoulder. “Coming?” Sammy darted to my side.

  I didn’t know where I was going; I just needed to clear my head and went where my feet took me. As we walked, we caught up on the past year, not thinking where our path took us. We had turned a couple of corners and come to a stop. It was then I realized where we were.

  The Ravenwyck Inn loomed before us, looking like something from a horror movie.

  “It still looks haunted,” I whispered.

  “You’ll get used to it. I did.”

  The century old, dark green building stood three stories high, up a short incline from the road. On the peaks of the dormers, each raven looked the same; wings spread, their tips arching downward like their heads. It was as if they were the eyes of the Inn, forever watching the grounds.

  “No way can I work inside of that creepy old building.” I pictured long dark hallways and secret rooms and lots and lots of ghosts. I’d even had a nightmare or two, starring the haunted-looking mansion.

  “Oh come on, Brooke. You’re not, like, scared are you?”

  “Of course not.” I lied. I was terri
fied of the place.

  “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Maggie.”

  “Who’s Maggie?”

  In a scary story-telling voice Sammy said, “She’s the Mistress of the Manor.” Then she laughed.

  I couldn’t find the humor in it.

  Sammy led the way and I followed. Once on the other side of the thick shrubs that lined the property’s perimeter, the place didn’t seem as foreboding. The parking lot was filled with vehicles. They had to belong to someone—right? The scent from the pink and white wild rose bushes, which hedged the landscape, mixed with the scent of freshly cut grass from somewhere else in the village, created a calming effect. Probably how Maggie the murderess lured in her victims.

  My steps were slow and guarded. I was ready to turn and run at any moment as we approached the iron-hinged front door. Sammy peeked over her shoulder at me. I gave her a fake smile and gestured her onward. She opened the door and walked right in. I followed.

  My mood didn’t change once inside the creepy old place. If I was to imagine a haunted hotel, this it is how it would look. Decorated with dark paneling and heavy chandeliers and laced with cobwebs, it held as much charm as Dracula’s castle might.

  Off to the right, a wide doorway opened to a large main room where clusters of people sat engaged in a medley of conversations. Sammy led the way past a huge, dark-wood staircase, which dominated the foyer and wound its way upward.

  “Samantha.”

  The ancient voice crept under my skin and seeped into every cell, chilling me to the core. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned in the direction it had come from. For crying out loud, it’s just a little old lady. So why did I feel like I should run and never turn back?

  “Hi Maggie.” Sammy smiled, showing off her dimples.

  Maggie was alone, leaning heavily on a cane for support. She hobbled toward us, fixing her ice-blue eyes to mine.

  “I wanted you to meet my cousin, Brooke,” Sammy said as casually as if Maggie was her own grandmother.

  “Ah yes. How thoughtful of you, Samantha.”

  Maggie seemed pleasant enough, until she spoke again. “I’ve been waiting for you, Brooke.”

  Although her lips hadn’t moved, her sharp, frigid words pierced my brain like pointy icicles. Unable to look away, I stared at her, wide-eyed, while her teeth grew to sharp points and an inky blackness swallowed the pale blue of her irises.

  As quickly as the apparition had paralyzed me, it released me. Once again, I looked upon the face of the feeble old woman Sammy had just introduced me to, with the new knowledge that her last remark had solely been meant for me to hear.

  I grabbed both sides of my head, trying to rub away the sharp, pulsing pains that lingered there.

  “Brooke, are you okay?” Sammy asked through clenched teeth, while jabbing her elbow into my arm.

  I lowered my hands and sucked in a sharp breath. My mind was playing tricks on me—it had to be. This sweet, ancient-looking woman posed no threat and neither did her Inn. I had to get a grip. I would soon be working here.

  “Brooke?”

  Finally able to blink, I lowered my eyes from Maggie’s. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I got up too early today, I guess.” I put on a genuine smile. “Hi, Maggie. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Maybe you should sit down dear,” Maggie suggested. “You’re a ghastly shade of ecru.”

  With her cane, she pointed toward a red velvet settee at one end of the foyer. I sat uncomfortably on its edge, clutching my clammy hands together. Maggie and Sammy sat in chairs opposite me. The sharp pains in my head mellowed slightly.

  A pale-skinned girl, who looked to be about twelve or thirteen, appeared from behind the staircase and stepped lightly across the foyer toward us. Her raven hair, a stark contrast against her pale complexion, was gathered into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. Despite the layers of clothing she wore and lack of make-up, she was sort of pretty in a peculiar way. She came to a stop beside Maggie’s chair, her hands clasped in front of her. She stared at me oddly with dark, lifeless eyes. The chill melted, and I grew uncomfortably warm from the inside out and lowered my eyes to the timeworn patterns in the area rug.

  “Beth dear, will you be so kind and bring us drinks?”

  Beth nodded obediently at Maggie before disappearing behind the staircase.

  The air in the foyer was thick, smelling faintly of fresh paint over oldness. I found it difficult to breathe as Sammy and Maggie conversed about mundane happenings of the village.

  Within minutes, Beth came back carrying a tray with three glasses of sweet tea, complete with lemon slices and a plate of homemade sugar cookies, sprinkled with colored sugar. She sat the tray on an oak side table and smiled at me before leaving us.

  “So, Brooke dear, you must find it a big change moving from the city to our quaint village.” Maggie smiled, pushing back the abundance of wrinkles like an accordion, the new arrangement of deep lines framing her mouth.

  “It wasn’t my idea, that’s for sure.” I regretted my sarcasm immediately and changed my tone before I continued, not wanting to sound like an ungrateful brat. “But I’m sure I’ll get used to it. And thanks for giving me a job here.”

  Maggie smiled, but seemed as though she masked a more sinister grin—my imagination again. She made every effort to make me feel comfortable, so why didn’t I? There was something odd about her, and I was sure Sammy didn’t detect it or she would have said something to me.

  I kept up the grateful façade throughout our conversation, eating a cookie and drinking the sweet tea. And when I just about couldn’t take any more of this creepy old woman and her creepy Inn, Beth came back to collect Maggie for a phone call.

  With Beth’s help, Maggie stood. “I’ll look forward to seeing you girls later this week. Goodbye until then.” She turned and hobbled away with Beth at her side.

  Once they were out of sight, I stood up so fast I got a head rush. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “Geez, Brooke, relax.”

  “I am relaxed,” I snapped.

  I bolted toward the open door as fast as I could without running, pushing past a couple of the Inn’s patrons. I didn’t stop to wait for Sammy until I was halfway down the walkway, where I allowed myself to stop and breathe in the fresh sea air and wild roses.

  “Are you alright? You’re acting weird,” Sammy asked when she caught up.

  After some deep breaths, I turned to face her. “No, I’m not all right. That woman’s a total creep and so is her sidekick.”

  Sammy burst into a laugh. “I’m sorry, Brooke, but when did you get so paranoid? You used to be the tough one.”

  If she only knew.

  “Come on. I’m suddenly hungry,” I said, making any excuse to get out of there.

  There was an absence of streetlights the entire way back. I tried to picture the light outside my bedroom window. It had illuminated my nights and lightened my dreams ever since I could remember. I would miss it most. In approximately nine hours, Deadwich would be in total darkness, and my new bedroom was in the back of Aunt Rachel’s house, gifting me with a million-dollar view of the Ravenwyck’s dormer peaks. How lucky for me.

  Chapter Two

  How do you dress for your first day at a new school? Fitting in was most important. My first choice was a sweater dress, leggings, and heels, until I saw Sammy come out of the washroom in jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers, so I copied her look. I applied some make-up, left my hair long and swept my bangs to the side.

  As a finishing touch, I pulled on the leather boots I’d gotten for barely making the grade and threw on my leather jacket. My reflection wasn’t as happy as it should have been on this day. Sad hazel eyes, glistening with unshed tears, reflected back at me from the mirror, making them seem more green than brown. But I wouldn’t give in and let the tears spill over. I took some deep breaths and trudged down the stairs for a cheerless breakfast.

  “Hey, that jacket’s sick,” Sammy said as I entered the sun-fi
lled kitchen.

  “Thanks,” I muttered and plopped onto a chair that had been warmed by a beam of sunlight.

  Uncle Jim had already gone to work at his animal clinic. It was just the three of us: Aunt Rachel, who taught history at Deadwich High, Sammy, and me, all getting ready for our first day of the new school year.

  Aunt Rachel poured me a glass of orange juice and then sat at the opposite end of the table sipping her coffee. Clearly, she and Sammy were excited about the day ahead—a far cry from how I felt. I picked up my juice and downed it.

  The bright spot in the storm was that Aunt Rachel could drive us to school in the mornings. It would be after school that I would have to take the big, yellow school bus home.

  Deadwich High was impressive compared to the small country school I expected. Now I was even more nervous. I had spent all my school years so far with the same group of people. This was a first for me, a stranger in a new school. Everyone would stare.

  “Hey, Sammy, wait up.”

  We both stopped in the parking lot and turned in the direction of the voices. Two girls ran toward us.

  “Hey you guys, this is my cousin I was telling you about, Brooke Day.”

  Great, I was expected.

  “Brooke, this is Robyn and Megan.”

  “Hey.” I forced a smile and kept it simple.

  “Hi, Brooke.” Robyn seemed friendlier than Megan, who greeted me with a “hey” as I had greeted her.

  A crowd began to gather. Everyone wanted to see the new girl. I had to suck down the humiliation and try to fit in right away, or it would be a long year, and I was determined not to be on the outside of the clique—if there was one. At least it was the first day of school for everyone.

  As I stood with Sammy and her friends, the squealing of tires caught everyone’s attention—a welcome distraction from me. I turned with everyone else to see a red Honda Civic fish-tail into the school parking lot.

  Two guys emerged. Sammy leaned in close to me. “Those are the smoking hot Knight twins. The blond one is Evan. The tall dark-haired one is Marcus.”