The Book of Bad Things (16 page)

“Y
OU’RE RIGHT
,”
SAID
C
ASSIDY
. “That line there is the road that bisects the valley. The star at the bottom must be Whitechapel.”

“Or
the
white chapel,” said Ping. “Or the intersection of rivers. Something …” She squinted at the carving as if a clue lay under its surface. When the others looked at her funny, she went on, “Look at the other stars. If this is a map, then they indicate the locations of certain places. Important places, maybe.” She clapped her hands in excitement. The echo rang through the house. “Of course! I know why this looked familiar. Yes, it’s just like Joey’s map, but it’s also like my magazines! Look at the stars. Where they’re placed.” She walked across the map, pointing at different spots marked by the five-pointed pentacles. “Here’s Quarry Lake,” she said. “And over there are the belching caverns. And I think the spot there is where that boulder stands balanced on those small stones. There are lots more points marked here that I’m not familiar with, but I’m pretty sure that’s what these stars indicate. The
strange
places of New Jersey.”

“And each star is connected by a straight line,” said Joey.

“And each spot where the lines intersect is circled,” said Cassidy, nearly out of breath. Her heart pumped as if she’d just run several city blocks. Was this what Ursula had wanted them to discover? The map under the rug. “There’s definitely a pattern,” she said, steadying her voice, “but what does it mean? Did Ursula carve this?”

“Maybe it was her uncle?” Joey asked. “Aidan.”

“It makes me think of ley lines,” said Ping.

“
What
kind of lines?” Cassidy asked.

“I read about them in —”

“Your magazine,” he interrupted. “Yeah, we get it.”

“You don’t have to get snippy,” said Ping, with a forced smile. “It’s a good thing for us that I like reading
Strange State
. But, yes, I learned about ley lines in my magazine. From what I remember, a geologist or archaeologist in Great Britain came up with the term, like, a hundred years ago. He discovered that most of the ancient sites — castles and graveyards and monoliths — that are scattered around the island are connected by defunct roads and pathways. Some people think that there’s something mystical about these hidden paths, and that they’re especially powerful in the places where they meet.”

“The circles,” Joey said, as Ping’s words began to sink in.

“The guys from
Strange State
pointed out that the same thing can be said about certain sites on our own continent, in our own area.”

“North American ley lines?” said Joey.

“You said they believe the lines are mystical?” asked Cassidy. “In what way?”

“They create vortexes,” said Ping. “Or is it vortices? Something like that. Places of extraordinary energy.” The three glanced at one another, understanding now exactly what that meant. “There aren’t too many of these intersections.” Ping bent down, running her fingers over one small section. “But check this out. Almost all the lines on
this
map meet in one spot. It’s the biggest circle of them all.”

Joey and Cassidy, who had, until then, stayed off the map, strolled tentatively to where Ping was crouched. Joey turned his flashlight back on, illuminating the greatest intersection of lines, which the carver had gone over with his or her knife, deeper than any other place on the floor. “You know where this spot is, don’t you?”

Cassidy felt faint. This whole morning, starting with her strange vision, had all been leading up to this moment. This discovery. “It’s here,” she whispered. She pointed down. “Where we’re standing.”

Ping nodded. “The biggest circle, the spot where all these
weird
stars intersect, is where Mr. Chase moved the Chambers house so he could build our neighborhood. They accidentally placed the house right on top of what might be the largest vortex in this area. Maybe in the whole state.” Then she blushed. “That is, if you believe in this sort of thing.”

O
UTSIDE, A GUST OF WIND
picked up, creaking the branches of the old trees surrounding the farmhouse. Cassidy listened carefully for the sound of birds or bugs or frogs and realized that all these creatures must have known, somehow, to stay away from this place. Something had led her here, but now she felt a sudden and overwhelming urge to leave.

She had backed toward the bedroom door, was ready to turn and run, but Joey went on. “Let’s assume, at this point, we
do
all ‘believe in this sort of thing.’ What does it have to do with what’s been going on in Whitechapel? With the appearance of Ursula’s ghost? With the deaths? The
missing bodies
? I mean, do I sound insane asking if these occurrences could all be the result of this … this vortex thing? The ley lines and all the rest of it? What is a vortex anyway?”

“Maybe we can look it up at home,” Cassidy suggested, easing away from the others. She’d started to feel that old nauseated sensation that came with her panic attacks. With one hand, she held onto the doorframe to steady herself, and with the other, she clutched the strap of her backpack, inside of which was her notebook. She had to stop herself from pulling the book out and clutching it to her chest.

“I can tell you what I know,” said Ping, standing her ground, unaware of Cassidy’s growing anxiety. “Think of a vortex as a whirlpool. Or as a black hole. It’s a spot where matter —
stuff
— spins to a central point. A vortex draws things toward its center. It keeps them there.”

“Like how Ursula wished to keep all her stuff here in the house?” Joey asked.

“Exactly,” said Ping. “Except … maybe it wasn’t
Ursula’s
wish.”

“What do you mean?” asked Cassidy, stepping farther back, across the threshold and into the upstairs hall. “No one else lived here with her.”

“What I mean is,” said Ping, extending her arms, indicating the carvings at her feet, “maybe it was something else. Something bigger than Ursula Chambers. Bigger than Aidan. Older.”

“Maybe,” said Joey, his voice rising with excitement, “whoever created this map knew that. Either Ursula or Aidan had figured out that something was wrong with this house. Or, if not the house, then where the house was built. Both of them were … troubled while living here. Maybe this map was their way of putting some of these pieces together.”

“Then why go to the trouble of carving it onto your bedroom floor? Why not just write it down?” Cassidy asked, pondering her notebook again. “Paper works just fine for me.”

“They must have had a reason,” said Ping. “If we can figure it out, maybe we can figure out the mystery of what’s been happening in this house, of what’s been happening to this town.”

“Great,” said Cassidy, turning and heading into the hall. “Then let’s go and think about it at home.”

At the top of the stairs, with Joey and Ping close behind, Cassidy felt immense relief. A pale glow from the open front door spilled across the foyer, inviting her to race down the steps and down the driveway, to escape into the comfort of true daylight. “Wow,” she started, “I can’t believe we actually found —”

But before she took the first step down, a sound echoed from somewhere beneath them. It sounded like the whine of an animal. Joey shushed her. “What’s that noise?” he whispered.

Cassidy clutched at the railing, but let it go when she felt the whole thing wiggle away from the wall. She brushed her dusty hand off on her shorts. Carefully, they made their way down to the foyer, listening closely for the noise, but it didn’t come again. Not right then. Instead, a bark came from below. This was followed by a soft tapping, like claws on concrete, that drifted up through cracks in the weathered floorboards.

“Now
that
, I heard,” said Ping. “There’s a basement!”

“I think we got what we came for,” said Cassidy. “Maybe we should …”

But Joey had already turned into the hall opposite the front door, away from the exit.

“Hold on,” she tried, reaching for him, but when she heard Joey whisper “
Lucky
,” she knew she couldn’t stop him.

Down the hall, Cassidy and Ping found Joey standing in the dark before another door, one that they hadn’t noticed before. He pointed his flashlight at the knob. Right above it, a broken hinge was twisted. A padlock lay on the floor.

“What the …” Ping whispered.

“Was Ursula keeping something locked up?” said Joey, his voice harsh. He reached out and touched the knob. The door swung inward slowly, surprisingly quiet.

“Are you crazy?” said Cassidy, grabbing his arm. “Don’t.” Joey flashed the light in her eyes, startling her into letting him go.

“Cassidy,” he whispered, serious. “You dreamed my dog was in this house. I
have
to do this. You
know
I do.” Then he stepped forward into the dark.

A
PLATFORM REACHED OUT
a few feet beyond the door. From there, a set of steps descended. Cassidy watched in horror as Joey’s flashlight bobbed and swung down into Ursula’s basement.

“Lucky?” Joey called.

Ping tugged her hand. “We can’t let him go alone.”

“This isn’t what I meant when I said we needed to come here. I never
dreamed
about the basement.”

“Did you dream about the bedroom?” Ping asked. When Cassidy’s face fell, she added, “See? Come on. There might be more that we need to know.”

“Fine,” Cassidy whispered. The light was now at the bottom of the stairs. She stepped forward if only to be closer to it. “But at the first sight of that dog, I’m so out of here. I don’t care how happy he is to see us.”

The girls skittered down the steps. At the bottom, they nearly barreled into Joey. He’d stopped short, looking in awe at the room. He moved the light slowly around the space, examining every inch. Cobwebs hung from the rafters. Mold and mildew dripped down the walls. But the basement was empty; if there had been anything here, the cleaning crew had removed it.

“Weird,” said Ping. “It looks … new.”

“New?” Cassidy said, wrinkling her nose. “More like filthy.”

“I just mean, I thought a centuries-old farmhouse would have a basement made of stone. And mortar.”

“This part of the house isn’t
that
old,” said Joey. “When they moved the building, Mr. Chase’s company probably poured a new foundation. Concrete.”

“Then why is that area all messed up?” Cassidy pointed to a dark spot on the wall across the room. The concrete had crumbled. A large crevice rose from the floor almost to the ceiling. When Joey moved the flashlight to get a better view, they all gasped.

Moving closer, following the others, Cassidy could see that the crack was wider than she’d first thought. Maybe a couple feet. She hadn’t been able to tell because in the dark she hadn’t seen the garbage that had been shoved inside. From about ten feet back, Joey’s light illuminated trash bags, crumpled boxes, papers, clothes, a doll, even a small chair. All of it filled every inch of the gap, from the bottom to top.

So the cleaning crew hadn’t gotten all of it after all, Cassidy thought.

“What is this?” Ping asked.

“Could be the opening to some sort of passage,” said Joey. “But it’s been plugged up.”

“If it is a cave, or a tunnel or something,” said Cassidy, shivering in the cool darkness, “Ursula mustn’t have wanted anyone to go digging around inside.” Joey seemed to take this as an invitation. He reached out and poked one of the torn trash bags with the tip of his light.

“Can we leave?” Cassidy asked. “Please? I’m scared.”

“We heard something down here.” Joey was disappointed. “Where did it go, if not in there?”

Ping pushed at his shoulder. “You think your dead dog crawled into that crack in the wall, then pulled piles of garbage in after himself?”

“I dunno! All I know is what I heard.”

One of the bags fell from the crack and tumbled to their feet. Cassidy was too shocked to scream. More pieces of detritus began to shift, spill forth, and roll toward them, as if something inside the space was moving around. The three scurried back, watching the wall in wonder, the glare from the flashlight reflected like from a giant eye.

After a moment, the movement stopped. Dust stirred, floating on invisible currents, illuminated by the white glow of Joey’s light. “Lucky?” Joey whispered again. “Boy?”

A human hand burst forth from the crevice. Pale-purple fingers pushed through the rest of the garbage, opening and closing, searching for something or someone to hold on to.