The note trembled in my hand. I lowered it to the dresser, leaned over it, and read the words again and again.
She was in my room. Marissa is here.
I knew that was her voice in the next room. I knew I heard her arguing with another young woman.
She was next door. How did she disappear before the night clerk and I opened her door? I didn’t have a clue.
But here in front of me was proof that she was here in the lodge. And now that the coast was clear, what were the chances that my sister was right next door again?
Of course, there were crushing questions that weighed down my mind. Questions I didn’t want to answer: Why was she avoiding me? Why didn’t she want to be found? Why didn’t she open the room door to me?
Why, why.
The questions led all the way back to: Why did she vanish on her wedding day?
And I knew the only way I’d ever get any answers was to find her and talk to her.
I stood over the dresser, staring at the words in red ink until they became a pink smear on the page. Then I shut my eyes tight and, clasping the dresser top, leaning over Marissa’s note, I began to whisper the words of a spell. It was a simple spell I had easily memorized, a spell to make an object appear.
Almost like a magician’s trick. Like making a dove suddenly appear in your hand. Yes, I knew Marissa wasn’t an object. But this was the only appearance spell I could master.
I was desperate; desperate enough to try anything. I knew Marissa was close by. If only a simple spell would be enough . . .
I sank into myself, sank deep into my darkest corners, whispering the ancient words. When I finished, I opened my eyes. Nothing had changed.
What did I expect? That Marissa would be standing next to me?
It took a few seconds to get over my disappointment.
Then I turned to the door. And had a strong feeling . . .
Back in the hall, I stood on trembling legs in front of the door to room 258. I could see a thin line of light through the crack at the bottom of the door.
But the night clerk turned off the light. I could swear that he did.
And now the light was on.
I raised my fist to knock. Then I remembered that I hadn’t closed the door all the way.
I grabbed the knob and, fighting the rapid hummingbird beats of my heart, slid the door open.
And uttered a startled cry. “I don’t believe it!”
Marissa, sitting on the edge of one of the beds, turned, and her expression hardened. She didn’t act surprised. The only emotion I could see was anger.
“I warned you, Harmony—” she said.
“Marissa! You’re okay!” I cried, rushing across the room. “You’re here! You’re right here. I . . . I don’t believe it!”
She stood up. She was wearing an outfit she always wore around the house—a maroon sweater over old black leggings. Her dark hair was tied back in a simple ponytail.
I threw my arms up to hug her. But I stopped when I saw the other two young women in the room. They both stood by the window. Both had their lips parted, eyes wide, watching me.
“Marissa—” I started.
She gestured to the two women. “This is my sister, Harmony,” she told them. “Ruth-Ann and Rebecca.”
I nodded a greeting.
“They’re kind of cousins,” Marissa said.
Ruth-Ann and Rebecca Fear? Why did their names seem vaguely familiar to me? My brain was swimming underwater. Staring at Marissa—actually here, actually in front of me—there was no way I could think straight about anything.
“You look a lot like your sister,” Ruth-Ann said to me.
“Thank you,” I said. Then I just stood there. I wanted to ask a thousand questions at once.
I gazed at the two Fear sisters. Ruth-Ann had short coppery hair. It came down just over her ears, with straight bangs across her forehead. Rebecca was prettier, softer-looking, with wavy straw-blond hair down past her shoulders and very large, light blue eyes.
They both wore long, flowery dresses, very silky and lacy, that came down nearly to the floor. Antique dresses, I realized. They must have been very expensive.
“I love your dresses,” I blurted out. “They’re antique, right?”
For some reason, both girls burst out laughing.
“Rebecca and I are antique, too,” Ruth-Ann said.
And in that moment, I remembered.
I remembered the chapter about these two sisters in the book about the history of my family.
Rebecca and Ruth-Ann Fear, who both died at this lodge, who both plunged over the mesa rim . . . who died at Rebecca’s wedding . . . in 1924.
I made a gasping sound as I remembered. And I felt my stomach lurch. I forced my dinner down. Held my hand over my mouth.
My knees folded. The shock was ringing through my whole body.
“Shut the door,” Marissa said. “Sit down over there.” She motioned to the armchair against the wall. “You might as well hear everything now . . . now that you found us.”
I dropped into the chair. I pressed my hands over the soft leather arms. My hands were icy and wet.
“Marissa,” I said, “I don’t understand. These girls . . . they DIED!”
Ruth-Ann and Rebecca dropped onto the edge of the other bed.
“Yes. We died,” Rebecca murmured, lowering her eyes.
I stared hard at her. She was so pretty. Like an angel, or a movie star from another time.
“But don’t be scared,” her sister added. “We’re not ghosts who came back to haunt you.”
They both giggled.
I turned back to Marissa. “Are you okay? You have no idea how worried we have all been. Worried isn’t even the word. We have been ruined without you. All of us.”
“I’m sorry,” Marissa replied, lowering her eyes.
“Why are you here? Are you going to explain to me about these two? Will you explain everything?”
Marissa sighed and shifted her weight on the bed. “I didn’t want to explain. That’s why I left the notes. I can explain, Harmony, but you won’t like it. Believe me. It’s better not to know.”
She stifled a sob at the end of her sentence. It was her first show of emotion.
“I have to know,” I said. “Do you mean you’re not coming home? You’re not—”
Marissa turned to the other two. “Where should I start? Will it be too painful for you?”
Ruth-Ann frowned. “Painful? It’s been too long since I’ve felt anything as real as pain.”
“Tell your sister the truth,” Rebecca said. She straightened the folds of her long skirt, busywork for her fingers. “You really do not have a choice, Marissa.”
“Tell me,” I insisted. “Tell me.” I hadn’t realized I’d balled my hands into fists and I was waving them in front of me.
“You shouldn’t be so eager,” Marissa said to me. “There is no happy ending. I—”
“But, Marissa,” I interrupted. “Don’t you miss us? Don’t you miss Mom and Dad? And Robby? Why did you run away? Why haven’t you come home?”
“I can’t come home, Harmony.” Marissa’s eyes watered but her expression didn’t change. “Do you want an explanation or not?”
“Sorry,” I said. I slid back in my chair and clasped my hands tightly together in my lap. “Sorry.”
“You probably know their story,” Marissa said, motioning with her head toward Ruth-Ann and Rebecca. “I know you read that book about our family’s weird history.”
“Rebecca’s wedding,” I said. “Yes. I read about it.”
I glanced at her. She avoided my eyes. She stood up and walked to the window.
“Rebecca didn’t know that the groom was a Goode. There is a curse on the Fear and Goode families. They can never marry.”
I nodded. “Yes. I know about it. It was a long time ago.”
“A long time,” Rebecca said with great sadness. She peered out the window into the darkness of the mesa.
“Rebecca and Ruth-Ann were both killed that day,” Marissa said, her voice steady but just above a whisper. I leaned forward in my chair to hear better. “Killed on what was supposed to be a joyful celebration.”
She paused to wipe her eyes. Rebecca stood frozen, her back to me, gazing out the window. Ruth-Ann had her hands in her lap, her head bowed.
“It was a day of horror,” Marissa continued. “A day of too much horror.”
Ruth-Ann nodded. A sob escaped her throat. “Too much horror,” she echoed.
“The horror was too much for anyone to bear,” Marissa said. “Screams echoed off the mesa for hours. Wedding guests collapsed in sorrow. There were heart attacks. Two guests were paralyzed with strokes.”
“Ohmigod,” I murmured.
Marissa leaned toward me. “This will be hard for you to understand, Harmony. But the curse between the two families—the Fears and the Goodes—was much stronger than anyone realized. Rebecca had married Peter Goode. They kissed and the marriage was completed before he threw her over the cliff. A marriage the curse did not allow.”
My mouth was suddenly dry as cotton. I realized I’d been holding my breath. I gripped the chair arms with my icy hands and waited for Marissa to continue.
“Minutes later, poor Ruth-Ann went over the cliff, too,” she said in a voice just above a whisper. “But the curse would not allow the two sisters to rest. They were dead but they could not be at peace. The curse forced them to live on at this lodge—not growing older, not living a normal life or seeing anyone from their time.”
Rebecca sighed. “Dead but not dead,” she said.
“Alive in your time and in our time,” her sister added, her eyes pleading with me to understand.
“They are trapped by the curse,” Marissa said. “Some of the lodge workers were caught up in it, too. They cannot control when they live. They are sometimes in the past, sometimes here today.”
“Walter the valet and Mr. Himuro . . . ,” I muttered.
“They are caught in time, caught in the curse,” Ruth-Ann said. “Like Rebecca and me.”
“And now I am, too,” Marissa said.
I uttered a cry. “What? What do you mean, Marissa?”
She shook her head. Her face drooped in sadness. Again, tears filled her eyes. “This is the part I didn’t want you to know, Harmony.”
“What?” I demanded, fearing the answer.
“I’m dead, too,” Marissa said. “Killed on my wedding day.”
“NOOOOOO!” I wailed, leaping to my feet. “No! It can’t be true. Please—say it isn’t true.”
She moved forward and wrapped me in a hug. “I’m so sorry. So sorry. But I’m dead, too, dear.”
“Who?” I cried, pressing my cheek against hers. “Who did it, Marissa? Who killed you?”
“Aiden killed me,” she whispered.
