The Mallory's Secret

I took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent from the herbal tea that my sister just brewed. It smelled like roses and butterfly pea flowers, with a zesty undertone of ginger and an almost imperceptible hint of cinnamon. Just breathing through the aroma was enough to soothe my nerves. Like a warm, comforting hug. 

However, for as much as I tried to relax, I couldn’t get it out of my head.

I couldn’t believe what just happened. 

A student was killed in my school. A girl barely 15 was horrifyingly murdered in cold blood. 

I took a careful sip of tea, clenching the scorching mug, but the warmth didn’t reach my bones. I couldn’t suppress a shiver running down my spine. 

“Did you knew her?” my sister Samantha asked quietly.

She was standing by the stove, stirring some soup for dinner. From the smell of it, I could guess she was cooking my favorite dish, broccoli and cheddar chowder, in the attempt of lifting my mood up a little.

After the body was found that morning, the teachers sent us home, and the lectures were suspended for the day. 

And now here I was. Sitting at the kitchen high table, telling my sister the whole story.

Samantha was in her last year of high school, but she was often skipping classes to spend time studying from home. She never failed a test so far, so the teachers never complained about her absences. That, and the fact that we were living under the school Principal’s tutelage until we reached legal age. 

Samatha was at the library that morning, too busy reading some heavy botanical compendium or science-related textbook, no doubt. 

“I wasn’t close or anything with her, but Chris Torres, one of Mars football’s buddies from 9th grade, was in class with her.”

“Jesus Christ, how could that have happened? Did the police said anything?”

“They still don’t know. After they saw the corpse and taped the whole theater, they called the rangers.” 

Samantha's brow arched upward. “The rangers?”

“Yeah, they suspect it was a wild animal attack, like a wolf or a mountain lion.”

She snorted, “A wolf inside of school?! What a load of bullshit!” 

“What else could it be? I mean, her chest was torn open, all her organs pulled out and sprawled around her. It was like a freaking horror movie. I never saw so much blood. Not since mom and dad...

I couldn’t finish the sentence as the picture of my parents emerged in front of my eyes from my deepest memories. The last words stuck in my throat.

Samantha put down the wooden spoon, and with a couple of wide steps, she closed the distance between us. My eyesight became blurry as her arms closed around me. Her warm hand resting gently on top of my head. She let out a deep sigh, “Hey, it’s ok.”

The death of our parents was still fresh in our minds. 

I was 11 when I came home and found their bodies. They were lying in a circle of strange symbols made with their own blood. Snuffed black candles surround them. 

I remembered my mother's face. She looked quiet and serene, with her eyes closed. Almost as if she were sleeping. Her skin was pale as the gardenia flowers' that she loved so much growing in the back of her garden; its buds would have withered before they could have bloomed that year.

My dad was sitting in a dark corner of the basement, tied to a pillar. His head hanging low, his white office shirt stained with a crimson bloom where his heart was supposed to be. 

After almost 5 years, that image was still hunting me. 

Samantha came rushing home from work as soon as the police called her, but it was too late. They were already wrapped in black bags, while I was crying my heart out from the back of the ambulance, holding my head tight. 

I think she still feels guilty from that time. I mean, not be able to be there in time, to cover my eyes before their sight, or even be there and try to protect them from that miserable end.

But the most devastating thing wasn’t their death, but the aftermath. 

The police never found who did that to them; they were saying that there was no trace of intrusion or that a third person was even there. 

After 6 months of failed investigations, they closed the case as a cluster suicide, but we knew it couldn’t be possible. Our parents loved each other, and they loved us. We told them, but they wouldn’t listen. We were “too young and confused," according to the detective in charge.

But there was another truth. Something that we couldn’t tell them. They wouldn’t have believed it; they would have certainly misunderstood.

The truth was that ours was a family of witches.

We Mallory come from an ancient bloodline of witches. Our family was known and respected in the underbelly of the magical world. 

Teresa, our mother, was a loving and patient teacher of the magical arts. She showed us the beauty and mystery of potion making, divination, and spell casting. While our dad, Charles, was a medium. He could see and speak with the dead and sometimes could summon the souls of the lost ones and borrow their power in exchange to help them find eternal peace. 

At the time we didn’t know where to go; if it wasn’t for dad’s best friend Albert that took us in, we would have ended up with social services or worse. 

Albert Henrik Greenstone was the current Principal of Thornton School. He was like a missed uncle, and he always loved us as we were his children. But he was not a witch, and he didn’t possess any magic. Although he knew of our family’s roots.

Samantha always told me that we needn’t to be a burden for him, and even if he gave us total freedom in using our powers, she said to keep it hidden, to not give him any unnecessary worry. 

Not that it was a problem for me. Since that day, I swear that I would have never practiced anymore. No more spells, no more magic. It was too painful. It was like believing that they were still there, only that they weren't. 

I knew my sister didn’t think the same; in fact, even if she hid it from me out of respect, I know she kept studying and practicing. I thought maybe that’s her way to fill the void that our parents left us. 

So in the end, we couldn’t ask Albert to help us out find the real perpetrator, and the shadow that our parents’ deaths left is still hunting us to this day. 

“Do you think it’s the same that happened to them? I mean, connected with the supernatural?” Samantha asked.

“I don’t know for sure. But whoever or whatever pulled out something like that, it wasn’t human, nor animal.”

She took a step back, looking at me as to take my whole figure in, worry shadowing in her sharp ebony eyes, and something else.

“You should stay home for a while, until things return to normal. We can skip classes together and watch some movies or something, like we used to do it.”

I looked back at her, forcing a smile. 

I knew she was trying to protect me. I wish I could just say yes and forget about everything, but things were more complex than they seemed.

“There is… something else.”

Her expression tensed, but she waited patiently for me to continue.

I was with my best friend Mars when I saw the dead girl at school. I almost couldn’t take my eyes off her. But there was something in the crowd that caught my attention. I didn’t think it was strange at the beginning. Among the mass of students and teachers caught up in shock and panic, there was a calm, tiny figure. A petite girl with a navy skirt and a pale yellow sweater. Her golden hair was messy and tangled, as she just wrestled her way out of bed without brushing it. But when she turned, my blood froze and my eyes widened in surprise. 

Her sweater was ripped open as her ribcage. Glistening white ribs sticking out from her hollow chest. Her eyes of a beautiful teal green were now covered in a layer of pearly white. 

Everyone was looking at the dead girl on the stage, but nobody could see the dead girl among them. She looked at me and locked her green-gray eyes with mine, then her mouth opened and she said something in my direction. 

I was too far away to hear what she said, but from the movement of her lips I could discern two words. 

Help me. 

“Eric?” Samantha’s call brought me back.

“She was there.”

“Who?”

“The girl. I saw her.”

My sister frowned, shaking her head confused.

“I think… I think I might be like dad.” 

She paled, finally catching up. “Wait. You mean… -

“I saw her ghost. And she was asking for help.”

My sister's expression was complicated and difficult to read. 

“What did you do afterwards?”

“I ran away.” Guilt rising inside of me, my cheeks flushed by shame.

“Did you see her again after that?”

"No,” I whispered.

“What do you want to do with her? Do you think she’ll show up again?”

“I don’t want anything to do with this stuff. I am not dad!”

Samantha took a deep breath, and she gave me a long glance. Then she scooted a chair and sat in front of me.

Oh no. I knew that look.

“You know, using our powers is not a bad thing, and before you say anything, listen to me until the end.”

I scowled at her, but I let her finish.

“I know using our parents powers reminds you of them and hurts a lot. But is not a bad thing. It’s not like you’re betraying their memories. On the contrary, it helps to feel them close. 

“Plus, you can’t hide your nature forever. It’s what makes you you, and it will always be this way, no matter how much you try to deny or hide it.

“I know dad’s powers were scary sometimes, but think all the good he did. How many souls he helped?" She paused, leaning back on the chair, swatting a lock of jet black hair with a casual gesture. 

“Listen, I would be the first one to tell you to stay home and away from danger. But maybe this girl is still there beside her body, afraid and confused. And she saw in you the only hope to understand what happened to her. Of course, you don’t need to take a decision now. But think about it.”

For as much as I didn’t want to, I knew she was right. I didn’t like the idea of getting involved with this ghost’s business. It was scary and dangerous. And even if I wanted to get involved, I didn’t even know where to start. 

But thinking again about her sad expression. She looked so lonely and frail. 

“Ugh, dammit!” I cried in defeat, “Sometimes I wish you weren’t so wise.”

“I know right, but what do you want to do? Someone in this family has to be.”

“…”

She chuckled, getting up and returning to the stove. “Jokes aside, you don’t need to do anything now. Just think about it. Helping someone in need may help you too.”

I nodded, letting my mind ponder her words, when my eyes fell casually on my phone, reminding me of something.

I checked the text messages, thinking about what my best friend would have done in my situation.

But opening the chat, I noticed he never read my last texts. 

Well whatever. I picked up my phone and mug, dragging my feet upstairs in my room. At least I could have some quiet time alone to consider the ghost situation.

Or that at least, that’s what I thought.